


Just Boom

by CCAirBorn



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: 3 parents, 3 way sex (Optional), Adoption, All NSFW scenes are optional and can be skiped, Angst, Blood, Bullying, Comedy, Comic nerd Jack, Cute omnic soldiers, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Graphic Violence, Graphic soldier enchantment (Optional), I repeat, Jesse McCree Amari Reyes, M/M, Mild Stockholm Syndrome, Multi, NSFW is optional, Oh god, Omnic bullying, Other, Overwatch golden era, Protective Jesse, Rating May Change, Siblings, Spoilers; he's a MARVEL boy, Surgery on genji, Trans Character, Trans slur, Violence, i think, if you squint very hard, it has nothing to do with the story, mention of rape, old people flirting, probably a long fic, squad bonding, thats his name for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-10-18 14:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 28,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10619187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CCAirBorn/pseuds/CCAirBorn
Summary: What happens when you adopt a puppy of the streets?Give the puppy a name, food and everything it could dream of.What happens if the puppy becomes bigger and stronger than you intended?And it suddenly learns to bite.Do you decide to shoot it then and there?Or wait to see who bleeds first.The puppy is no longer a puppy.





	1. Eagle Eye

Working for Overwatch was shit.  
The entirety of the organisation was pure stupidity, and to be frank, Gabriel often wondered if the communication department knew what they were doing.  
Gabriel wanted to make the world just a little less horrible, no matter what. However, the way Overwatch decided to operate sometimes made his goal just a tad difficult. 

It was hard to swallow all their load. 

Everything was “in theory” to them, never in practise. Hell, Gabriel wondered if they were completely aware of the things happening outside of their bulletproof office boxes.

They probably did of what he was aware. He couldn’t help but complain however, when his instant reaction is “what the fuck” upon reviewing mission files. Things weren’t like they used to, after the first crisis. 

The communication department manage to do their job at least, sending Gabriel and his team across the globe, to the moon and back. It’s hard to pinpoint where the leading commander hasn’t been posted during his years, miles away from any HQ.  
A handful of those times he almost ended up biting the dust. 

When the overworked Latino finally received a mission on his own soil, he was content. It meant familiar ground to step on, air from his childhood to breath and at the same time collecting and burying his body would be easy. Overwatch will be the end of him. Gabriel swears, kicking the bucket isn’t an option before those office hands of theirs taste the same filth his troops bath in daily. 

It was a small mission this time, so his superiors claimed, with a small team. Gabriel himself and Ana Amari supervising a couple of newbies whom anyone could smell were fresh out of camp. Fresh meat could go both north and south on missions like these.

Wheels were rolling towards Los Lunas, New Mexico, a small and dying town surrounding the endpoint Route 66. Overwatch had their noses on a small group of deadlock members, separated from the main flock, that might provide information if captured correctly. Small they had said. 

Ana smiled at Gabriel across the truck, enjoying the hot breeze seeping in from somewhere and the chatter of the new recruits.

"Aren't you exited?" she gleamed, tapping her outstretched leg on Gabriel’s, stealing his attention like she would with hearts. Gabriel's expression was polar opposite, stuck on his usual frown. The soldier was not upset, tired and uncomfortable if anything. The stuffy vehicle and dry air did not assist on anything but it was clear that he didn’t want to complain.

Her voice and the tap brought his attention back down to earth, shifting his crossed arms and position with a sigh when Ana waited patiently. 

"Excited for what exactly? Not traveling across the globe for once? I suppose." The Soldier shrugged and cracked a dry smirk. Only Morrison and Wilhelm was missing in the truck to feel like the young days. If they had Torbjorn nagging on their communication devices too, it would have been perfect. 

"Across the globe?” Ana exaggerated. “I’ve been stuck with paperwork last couple of months, this is the first time in what feels like decades to finally stretch these bad boys."

"Sometimes I wish they gave me more paperwork." He chuckled at the Egyptian slapping her legs and giving them nicknames.  
Ana is one of very few people who could get a genuine smile out of him, along with the few he considered family. The war didn’t leave a lot of those left.  
She is that one obligatory mom friend and is an expert on bailing people out of trouble. She has never let a back gone uncovered. 

"It'll be good to work with you again though, Amari. Missed that." He bumped his shoe against one of her “bad boys”, in which made her lean away to hide a creeping smile behind her hat.  
"What are you talking about, I am just here to keep your butt out of trouble, per usual, aleaziz. (friend) " 

There wasn’t much of Amari on the battlefield ever since Fareeha moved into base. Having the sniper on your list is the best things to be read on your team composition papers before a mission. Her eagle eye could spot anything anywhere. Barely any fight went lost with her watching your back. It wasn’t natural to keep this bird in her cage for too long. Even with a kid in her claws, her wings spread just as wide as old time.

The vehicle bumped some rocks, drove off the road and into something sounding like a grass field. They were close to their drop off- indicated by three knocks on the wall separating the driver and the OPS agents.

Gabriel’s smile grew into a grin. He was just messing around before because the truth is: he was always excited. Missions always gave him a boost of energy.

"Well then you better do a good job. Would be nice to return unscathed for once."


	2. HeadLock on the DeadLock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Half a squad moves in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate when people speak anything other than english and the translation is at the bottom of the chapter. So ill just leave translation in (parentheses)

"Turn on your comms brats! We're going for a walk. No bloodshed, immobilise. Be smart and wait for back up. The usual drill. Got it?" There was a roaring spark in the Latino American’s eyes as he played the big boss.

They all responded "Sir, yes sir." before doing as they were told. Some made sure the safety trigger was activated on their weapons so accidentally shooting an allied wasn’t possible. There was a chance of it happening with their anxiety dwelling under their soldier act. It was clear as glimmering crystal that this was their first real mission. 

Ana clicked her tongue teasingly, muttering "Show off" before freeing them all from the stuffy van. Doors wide open, vehicle coming to a halt. The soldiers on Ana's bench followed her lead out into the dead landscape. Grassy and dry, red stone as far as eye could see. Their destination wallowed in the horizon between the heat waves. 

Gabe winked at Ana after everyone had made it out. They both knew he enjoyed being the boss, taking lead. Got to keep the newbies on a leash and keep their respect. Jack often complained that he should stop 'bullying' new recruits. He never listened.  
Slamming the car doors shut and banging on the side sent the vehicle on its way. "Radio when you're ready for extraction.” His Comm Dev. sang smoothly.  
"Affirmative."

Getting a good look of the surroundings himself reminded Gabriel of an old western movie where the wild was law and the sheriff was second under that. Shoes would jingle rhythmically as they kicked up red dust; one hand on a huge buckle and the other on the rim of his hat.

Ana leading the group, barely moving the sand under her feet would do for a sheriff replacement. "I swear if we hear a banjo or a harmonica playing I’m going home." She complained clear enough to receive everyone’s chuckle and ease their anxiety. 

"What do you think we'll actually find? Another dead track or lucky day?" 

She hummed thoughtfully, followed by silently judging boarded up doors and windows in the distance. Ears and eyes open for any kind of human activity.

Gabriel reached out to gently nudge Ana's shoulder and point to tracks leading into town as they got closer. 

Multiple tracks. 

Motorcycles.

 

Her eyes lit up and she raised her rifle-scope close in at the track’s endpoint.  
"This is our lucky day.... Oooh, bnghu (BINGO). Those are definitively fresh."  
The squad looked forward, interested in whatever Ana was referring to. Even more so when she moved her scope slowly west.

Now the excitement was starting to build up. Did they just do it? After so long and so many dead trails? A grin grew on Gabriel's face while he looked between the eagle and the trails. 

"Who's up for some action and beating?"

Unsure if the question was directed at them, some of the fresh soldiers awkwardly raised their hand. 

"They were careless. Know why?" She frowned, handing the rifle over to Reyes, tapping the scope. He gladly accepted it, weapon familiar yet unusual in his hands as he peeked through. The building surrounding the trails were food shops and drug stores. All of them: raided. 

"They ran low." He growled.  
"Seems like it.".  
\---  
Splitting up would do more for the team than together, two west with Reyes and three north with Amari. Soldier: 325 looked around confused, sniffing the air making Gabriel uneasy. It was only three of them, so any hunches could be a big lead. 

“What is wrong, cadet?” 

All he smelled was the faint scent of gasoline which he suspected came from the motorcycles. He wondered where they stashed the vehicles. 

"You got anything there, hunting hound?" 

She didn’t speak, only made odd hand motions toward her partner in which translated. 

"Tobacco and blood. A lot of male sweat. Ew, man, what the hell." The soldier shivered and cringed hard. The image 325 painted with her few words weren’t pretty. "Also at least 6 different sets of DNA." 

Gabriel slowed down to stare at both the soldiers and blinked slowly at 325. Then cringed just as hard. Not at the depiction but at the fact she could smell all that and tell it apart.

"I don’t believe you." 

“I am a Super Soldier reject, sir.“ 325 signed, her partner translated. “You must know how senses jump for a period. Well I am stuck in that period.”  
Reyes remember the Enchantment program, to think they are still doing that made him inhale deeply with disappointment. Now that it was mentioned, he did smell smoke too. Cigars too expensive to be legally bought. 

He reached up to the comm. "Amari. Got anything?" He didn't want to charge in on a 3v6, besides he knew Ana wanted some fun.

"Empty. Cold as ice, but they left old tracks and quit a few shells.” The sound of said shells were kicked over in the background. “Shotguns, hand guns, and-- what is that? huh? Homemade flashbangs stuffed with sand and shady...dust. You?"

"We on the other hand are onto something." He looked back at the saloon next to them and gestured for the other grunts to follow him into a side alley. Better to stay out of sight. "Do you want to join us or should we just barge on in without you? I kind of missed seeing you in action."

"How romantic." She paused. it was a rather long pause. "How many?"

"Enough for a round of salsa and a group date." 

Ana snorted on the other end as 325 walked further down the alley, behind the building, to peek around. She mouthed something to her partner and nodded. 

"We're on our way Reyes, stay put."

"Copy that.” The way his soldiers operated fascinated him. Gabe could some Sign language but didn’t understand what 325 was signing. Some form of cryptic language? "Don't wander off. What you got?"

"Vehicles spotted" He whispered as 325 returned to their side. "Quit a few too, unguarded." 

“Excellent.”  
\---

Gabriel happily took out his knife and stabbed through tanks, sliced through some tires. Yes, destruction. Goodie goodie. They only managed to puncture and wreck some of the many bikes before the creaking of wooden door swung open around the corner. Someone whistled their way down the alley, taking a leak against the building next doors. The Hound Soldier looked ill, about to puke as she cover up her nose and held her breath.  
The fellow was taking his precious time with that leak. 325 was looking rather blue, something her partner noticed. He was quick to search his gear for a gas mask, but placed it on the hound’s face too slow as she audibly gasped for sweet air, no longer blue but turned rather quick red from embarrassment. The taller soldier shock his head disappointed when Gabriel reached out to pat her on the back, mentally noting to buy her a drink or something later. 

“What? Who there!?”. The pissing man noticed the gasp and looked the three OPS dead in the eye. Reflexes told Gabriel to land a punch then slide behind the criminal, looping an arm around the throat and squeezing.

"Shhh. Shhh. Shhhhh. There. Sweet dreams." Reyes suffocated and gently lied the man down once he went limp, junk exposed and everything. 

325 giggled but immediately froze, pinned too stiff for the BlackWatch Commander’s liking. She very clearly mouthed "get down" before janking her partner down on the ground. 

The saloon exploded.


	3. Coming in

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They almost catch the DeadLock, who is that kid?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like i'm dragging the suspense too long.  
> Will you ever meet McCree? Who knows.

"Ana, position?" Gabe radioed with his chest pressed against the dirt. He was happy that 325 announced for cover as fast as she did, skillful lady there. The explosion was loud enough to ring some ears and vibrate some ribcages, the same way a speaker would on the front row of a concert. All remains of windows or glass were like crystal shards on the ground, reflecting light into the dust kicked up by the soundwave. The smell of sulphur was strong with this one. 

Ana was afraid that the party had begun without her, making sure her complain about it was heard as she was only a few blocks away. Both the official soldiers knew no one was carrying anything to create such a blast. Both knew no one was stupid enough to engage the first crossfire. Gabriel reported no following danger as 325 and her partner clicked the safety switch off on their weapons. 

"I can see people beating each other up from my location. Move in we got your back." The Californian never hesitated when that order was given by Amari. A form of safety word on the field to lead them to the entrance of the saloon, revealing that there indeed were people fighting inside. Fighting, you couldn’t even call that shit fist cuffing. They attempted to calm bad blood among them, which served as an advantage to the team. Bad blood is easy to manipulate.

"Save your bullets, Cadets." 

And with that Gabriel stood face to face with roughly 10-13 sooty, dusty, rough criminals ranging from their mid-twenties all the way up to their early sixties.  
6 people were beating each other up in the middle of the room- hopefully the centre of attention of engaging and annoyed audience with cans of beer in their hand, firearms hot on their belt. It was almost breathtakingly fast how all eyes and guns glued themselves to the three BlackWatch agents when the room fell to a deafening silence.

Click.  
Click.  
Click.  
Click.

Hammers drawn back to the beat of a clock, ears turning attention to every direction. Fortunately, time was on the good side today, so the LA soldier could dance all day if he had to resort this. No one was waiting for him anyway. 

"Outmanned, partner? How about we let your mistake slide and let you exit without spilled blood. Sound good, yeah? I mean we all turn noses in wrong places at the wrong time, don’t we?" An older man broke out when his gun was locked and loaded.

Reyes scanned the people inside, seemingly bored and disappointed with the quickly earned attention, except for one baby face. Out of place and fresh, unarmed but ready for battle as the child kept his scarf packed close.  
No threat, not with such a skinny frame and more than half the body mass of anyone in the room. He didn’t look healthy. He looked like little Angela, only chewed up and placed back in his wrapper. One gust of wind from the wrong direction and he would fall apart. 

It wasn’t right. 

"No. We don’t. We will let your mistake slide if you surrender quickly. The town is surrounded. Twenty snipers set up, one for each one and more to spare. Step outside without cuffs and your head is off." The commander bluffed, clicking his pager and location beacon with a relaxed grip on his hellfire handle. 

“Sorry boys the fun is over."

Gabe supressed a grin and kept his bored attitude up when a much bigger junkster, maybe even dumber, confronted the Latino American from his previous fight. He didn’t have anything in hand, but might have hid something up his sleeves. Thick leather jacket hiding firm muscles, secrets, weapons? 

"Then we might just take you weenies hostage then."  
"We don't usually care about hostages. They'd level this place to the ground nonetheless, therefore just spare me from negotiation." He grimaced as the man approached, veins along exposed skin tightening in the moment he—oh for god’s sake. The large man’s fist came straight for Gabriel’s abdomen. No time passed, no thoughts at all. It was all autopilot: Gabriel dancing to the song of the moment as he twisted and turned on his feet to place the criminal smothered against the dirty floor, one arm locked around the large man’s back. BlackWatch’s Hellfire carefully kissed the criminal’s head, Gabriel’s cadets aiming down anyone trying to interfere.

"Please, unless you want your friend’s brain splattered out onto the wood we will solve this peacefully. " The commander ordered as the room was too quiet for anyone’s liking. They knew they couldn’t surrender or lose anyone with brawns and no brain. Their group was getting thin, there’s no way they can get back to the DeadLock HQ with less member than what they have. It’s game over, no way around. 

"Hey, mister! Think fast!" A young, maturing voice exclaimed. Before Reyes could react to the source, a tube-shaped object hit the Latino square in the face. The impact was hard enough to stun and knock him out of consciousness for a few seconds as a dust, sandy feeling drizzled itself across his face. Whoever attacked had a good throwing arm and a quick draw.

Cursing was distributed among the delinquents along with an unfamiliar name being referred to as "Brat."  
The BlackWatch Agents were held at gunpoint, hopefully still able to keep his ass safe for his moment of absence.  As soon as Gabe could think again, he growled and hit the Criminal underneath him with his gun to knock him out when it came again: An explosion. 

The distraction was enough for someone to rig up something to the wall in the back. The wood came crumbling down, flinging in controlled yet random directions. The blast was big enough to cause unexpected chaos as they all fled out their new exit. 325 was suddenly in a gun show-down with two revolver users, while her partner attempted to immobilise as many as he could with police bats. They were shouting for retreat, gathering as much supplies as they could, as fast as they could. Gabriel was about to stop them when two large, fighting capable DeadLock’s, stayed behind to try and take Gabriel down to give the others the chance to escape. 

Jesus these guys were insane, organized insane. 

"Ana they're scattering!" He called out through his communicator, wiping away blood from a new cut on his eyebrow. One of the Criminals managed to land a punch on him but was quickly repaid with a knee to the stomach. Reyes was as good with his gun as he was with bare knuckles. In moments between the fighting he attempted to locate who the fuck threw the flashbang. 

"I heard, my troupe is on it. Also, mama's coming in."  
There was confusion.  
Mama? What the hell is she planning?

The crackling of wood breaking above them ceased the fights Gabe was engaged in. Was the building about to collapse? Was the structure already giving in? No. It was, in fact, Ana dropping from a weak spot in the ceiling.  She fell on top of one of the delinquent, knocking him out and sleep darting another. She was fast to fling the back of her rifle in the face of a third one trying to escape like a god damn baseball bat. Three enemies in five point zero seconds, that’s a lady you just have to love.

Just when you needed help a hawk comes crashing down in your lap. He missed seeing her like this. Brutal: bashing heads in with a smile. 

"Thanks, Mama." Gabriel grinned as she threw her hair back with an unamused hip rest. 

“I know.”


	4. DeadEye They called him.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Who is that skinny kid, really?  
> And will Ana slap him?

325 and her partner just finished hauling half-conscious bodies in a corner to secure them. Ana’s cadets chased after the few refugees that managed to escape, planting trackers and hyper snapping photos of everything they could. It was necessary for further documentation, however dropkicking criminals off their bikes was merely amusing. 

Gabriel drank in the sight with approval, seeing as the mission had gone better than expected. Ana gave the Californian a thumbs-up while heading out the main entrance when the view between the two got blocked by…a bar stool? 

Oh shit! The piece of furniture soared at Mach-speed, turning Latino blood to ice. Inches away from his face, unnoticed and about to collide as its destination had already been set and locked in. How didn’t the commander hear the pitcher? There’s no way you wouldn't be able to hear someone pick and deliberately aim a flipping stool at you!

Crossed arms, ducked head and lowered knees saved Reyes from any major injuries. It still hurt as fuck when the old wood crumbled upon impact, sprinkling it remains around him like rice at a wedding. It's going leave a nasty bruise, he thought as he twisted about to charge the attacker.

The kid. 

The young squirt of the DeadLocks tensed by the, still reeking, hole in the wall. His goggles were covering his eyes when orders were barked to back the fuck off for retreat, somewhere far away. 

DeadEye they called him. 

Gabriel dashed, spooking DeadEye as he attempted to bail for one of the remaining bikes. Specifically, one of the bikes the commander recognized as tampered with. What gave it away was the strong smell of gasoline leaking underneath it. Gabriel didn’t stop running though, seeing as DeadEye also noticed the leaking. The kid looked scared over his shoulder before pulling out a lighter from his pocket, taking a throwing stance as he aimed for the punctured fuel tanks.  
The kid had a good aim, but reaction time and movement wasn’t exactly his strong suit.  
\---

"Ok, we managed to retrieve seven in total, five by foot and two chasers—“  
“Make that eight, I got a kid too.” Gabriel added to Ana’s mission summary on the communication radio.  
“Right, is it by any chance called blackwat—“  
“No, haha. Not my kid, I mean a deadlock kid. We ran out of cuffs so mind coming ba—“

"Stop barking, you dogs!"  DeadEye interrupted the conversation, wheezing under the entire weight of Gabriel. Putting up a fight with someone twice your own weight and size, even in distress, is not an intelligent move. No matter how fast of a thrower you are, you can’t throw far with someone tackling you to the ground and dragging you inside the building. DeadEye’s key to victory was litterarly pryed out of his hands and confiscated. 

Their play fight ended with Reyes’ butt victoriously planted on the DeadLock’s back, holding him in place and immobilized until someone returned with handcuffs. 325 and her partner offered nothing but a chuckle as they continued to document and pick up details from the mission scene. 

"Would you just quit that?" Gabe huffed, rolling his eyes when DeadEye stopped squirming, given up his escape attempts for the fifth time.

"I swear, mister. One reload and y’all  be carrying a pocket in your heads! Step right up, ill blow y’all so high, even Mother Mary want'a look away! Had I known I’d be seeing your ugly faces today I’d saved ya'll some bullets!”

He was experianced with firearm now, was he. Talked too much for his own good too. Maybe if he was lucky, Gabriel could pry out enemy intel.  
“Say, why don’t I make you a deal, kid? You give me some music to my ears, back at my base, and I’ll get of your back; literary. Hell, I’ll even give you some proper food rather than whatever you’ll get in a cell.”

"Base?” DeadEye confirmed what the soldier had said.  
“You ain't taking me no-where close to your hut. Why don’t you just shoot me here and now and be done with it! 'Cause, frankly, you aint getting jack out of me. No torture, no threats, no nothing be budging me. So go and suck on a trunk, you lousy Overwatch nodding dolls! You—“

"Please, does that kid have an off button? I’m in the middle of a meeting."  
It was Amari's turn to interrupt. She was honestly sounding very stern as she finished up her “meeting” on the receiving end on the radio. The line was immediately filled with a slap to someone’s face. Ana hated potty mouths, slapping whoever if they didn’t cooperate. She wouldn’t hesitate to use that hand on the youngest of the deadlocks too, if needed.

"You heard the lady. She's not as considerate as me, mind you. Though you have a luck on your side. She has a soft spot for youngsters."  
Gabriel explained when the kid looked over at his coworkers bundled up in the corner just a few feet away. Some of them had already awoken, throwing blinks as they caught DeadEye’s attention.

"Sure. Whatever, Mister." The young brunette finally huffed, defeated when one of the Overwatch Cadets strolled in, freeing The Commander from an eternal sitting. He wished he could stand up without worrying DeadEye would bolt or attack.

"Pick up is on their way, sir." The soldier informed, handing the commander spare handcuffs when he rose from the ground, a hand on The Kid’s shoulder so he wouldn’t disappear off somewhere. 

DeadEye was gently nudged towards his fellow criminals with his head low. Like a stubborn child whom couldn’t win an argument, he kept quiet. He waited until The Cadet had turned to tend to her own matter before striking. Reyes had only managed to secured one of DeadEye’s wrists when the youngster dropped to his knees and rolled forward, prying the handcuff out of Reyes’ grip. 

Everything happened so casually, Gabriel didn’t notice that one of the DeadLocks had spent all their might to trip him over before he had already fallen onto his bottom. 

The Kid was quick to find a weapon, after his newly claimed freedom. A broken piece of wood littering the floor flew quickly aimed at the Latino and in attempt to dodge it only escaladed the problem of the situation. 

Here Gabe thought he actually managed to get The Kid to calm down and surrender, that he would be allowed to go home in just a few hours without trouble. Nope.  
Motherfucker was fast too fast when he leaped forward to knock The Commander’s back down to the ground. His weigh sitting over The soldier’s chest. He was unable to sit up, unable to use his hands as protection, seeing as they were trampled down by the young man. 

What followed was just this awful combination of crunching wood and skin tearing in the wrong direction. Gabriel’s face felt warm and comfortable as something heated up his nose and cheek. The area around one of his eyes numbed his facial muscles as he was hit across.  
Blood trickled down The Commander’s face.


	5. Goodness, Gabriel. What happened to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm taking this fucker home.  
> (longer chapter)

When you’ve shot a gun enough times, aimed it at bodies enough, you’ll start to recognise its sounds. The smell that comes after and the vibration tickling your skin becomes somewhat of a routine. It’s like knowing dusk has risen, without opening your eyes, based on the sun warming your skin, birds tweeting, and the smell of coffee swimming in an ocean of sizzling eggs. 

Gabe couldn’t see anything. 

Everything was gone but he knew one of his Hellfire shotguns had been triggered. His cadets shouted directions while the bundled-up criminals, behind The Commander, shouted The Kid’s name. This shit needed to be sorted, and that gun should be out of bullets soon, as frequently as DeadEye fired it at his agents. 

No matter how much Gabe wiped away the blood on his face, he couldn’t open his eyes. He couldn’t stand up, because when he tried he was kicked down again by the older Deadlocks. Gabe was tempted to just give the old men a kick to the face, and roll away, when he heard a gun cock ready, inches away from his face. The smell of home reeked in the barrel as heat blew over his forehead. 

DeadEye didn’t expect Gabe to have two shotguns, inhaling deeply when the second one was pressed into his abdomen. 

“Ya know, I can live without a gut. You can’t live without a brain. So, use it wisely and order your dogs off my back, and I’ll consider getting off yours.”  
“Don’t feel like it.”

If cockiness had a form, it would be this kid in the flesh. Gabe couldn’t hear any of his soldiers in the room, but he could feel 325 staring at him. “Help is coming” he could feel her signing in his head, but she needed a distraction. 

“Tell me, how does a kid like you manage to take down a super soldier and two trained agents.” Gabe huffed, keeping their stalemate hotter than the trigger under his finger. Enemy or not, he didn’t like firing at a kid. 

“Super solider? Hahah! Who’s that, you? A blinded man, with the whistle in his mouth, is an SS ranked. How delightful that I got him to his knees without breaking a sweat.”  
“You’re aware of our ranking system.”  
“I’m only aware of the price tag on your head. Don’t make me damage that pretty face before I hand it in.”  
“You think I’m pretty, how cute.”

The grip around the shotgun tightened, quietly raised, about to smack down onto Gabe’s head. The firearm never managed to hit when 325 flew into DeadEye with one of Overwatch’s portable jetpacks. 

Gabe was hauled away, in the arms of an allied, and his vision was quickly cleared in time to see 325 wrestle a kid to the ground. 

“YOU STUPID— HE STILL HAS THE—!”

Gabe thought they both died to the same bullet, seeing as they both stiffened and reacted to the BANG. 325 hissed in pain as DeadEye unconsciously fell limb to the floor, across the room. 

"Field medic!" Ana shouted, from the front door, as she threw away her sleep dart gun and ran for the body. Mama was quick to cuff both DeadEye’s arms and legs and kicking dust in the older Deadlock’s faces to stop their disgusting laughs and sarcastic moans of disappointment. It was their last entertainment as free men, so they just had to enjoy it. 

325 was carried over next to Gabe, his eyes following her with worry. So much that he hadn’t realize that another medic had already injected him with “doctor-magic-formula™” and patched up his face. 

“She’s going to be fine.” The medic smiled, turning The Commander’s face back to himself to start on another row of stitches.  
“Can you open your eye, sir?”

Open his eye? Now that the topic was mentioned, one of his eyes had swollen shut. It was awkward to open it, but thank God he hadn’t lost vision. 

It made the medic brightened, like a ray of sunshine, as he instructed to swallow a pill placed in Reyes’ hand.  
"Am I still going to be pretty, doc?" He muttered, swallowing the odd medicine dry. 

The solider snorted, drizzling disinfection over the scars.  
"It’s probably not possible, but you’ll be way hotter by the time I’m done with you. And a sick-ass-scar? Wooh… man-- ugh I mean."  
He flushed and pulled out a blister from the Latino’s cheek, flinching as a reaction. 

"Ahem…You’ll be fine sir."  
"Lovely." 

He winked at the medic and sat back doing nothing, every facial expression still hurt before the numbing injection and the pill properly kicked in. 

Ana retrieved an unharmed barstool to hover between her fellow commander and the other injured soldiers being tended to.  
"Since you’re not spilling colourful words in all the language you know, I would say that you’ve attached yourself to the kid."  
“No. Fuck him, he hurt my family.”  
“Even them?” She rhetorically asked, pointing at three of the wounded soldiers.  
“I know nothing- but their codename and number- however they are still family. You know this.”  
“I do, just wanted to check on you, Reyes.”  
"What do you think we should do about it?"

Ana glanced over her shoulder, observing the tied-up child, asleep away from the rest of the Deadlocks. 

"Nothing. It doesn’t matter what we think, we only extract information and hand them over to Overwatch. That's why I’m on this mission, so no one gets hurt or attached.”

“But…” Gabe capitalized. “He is still—“  
“—Just a kid, I know, and I know what you’re thinking. We will deal with it when we get back, I promise. I, too, am concerned with the boy. He can’t be much older than mine, and it… bothers me that we’re about to throw him away to rot."  
“…But he is not ours to deal with.” Reyes’ completed her sentence, confirmed by a quiet nod at the ground from the Egyptian.

“The world could always use more burden carrier.” They quoted in union, twisting the proper slogan.  
\---

"Sleep? Me? Are you serious?” Gabe smiled, drawing a laugh from Amari.  
“I don't want to miss your “bad cop” act so I'll just go and see Angela real quick, then join you.”  
“Reyes, you need rest, eat and relax.”  
“I can do all that on the other side of the glass- watching you do your thing. A bit of fun- come on~."

She snickered and waved over her shoulder as they separated.  
"Do what you want, Angel. You know where to find me."

He waved her off and made his way down to the medbay in search of the young medic. Golden hair tied in a high ponytail, loose lab coat on her shoulders. Sleepless yet strong. Angela nibbled on a pen over paperwork, probably handed to her by her medical teacher. She was one of the few Doctor students studying at Overwatch’s USA base, but God was she unlike any other. She was a real angel.

"Goodness, Gabriel. What happened to you?" She jumped, thick accent tinting her words when she went through the usual drill. Asking about his injuries and suggesting what prescription he needed. She always worried with too much passion, it would be the death of her one day. Her codename was "Mercy" for a reason, not always the reason you think, though. 

It was the same name a cheerful and high voice called, out from the back door of the medbay. A small girl dressed in white emerged with an empty box in her hands, informing that she was done with stocking supplies. The box fell clumsily to the ground and was ran past when the small girl exclaimed toward Gabriel with open arms.

“Gabi!”

Ah. There was Ana's kid. He should have expected she'd be here, the girls were nearly inseparable. Gabe could never resist smiling or feeling happy when he saw those two, specially together. He ducked a little to match Feereha’s height as she skipped onwards to give Gabriel a big hug, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"Hey there you little brat. How are you doing?"  
"Good! Well, better than you, it seems. Your face is all messed up, haha. I see you got your butt kicked." The joke earned The Mini a snort and a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

"Yeah. Bad luck. and by a kid maybe five years older than you." He bopped her nose to make her laugh. "I am a disgrace. Maybe I'm getting old."  
“Not old, just off guard. You were probably not warmed up!”  
“Yeah, maybe.” 

Ziegler perked up and approached The Commander with the medication.  
She handed him the painkillers and two small, glass bottles of a glistening gold substance.  
"What's that?" She mustered.  
"Deadlock apparently pulls teenagers with them too."  
The medic made a small tsk noise and shook her head.  
"Yeah I know. I’m heading over to see Ana dry him on the rack right now. Thanks for the meds." He gently messed up Phara's hair before turning for the exit.  
After dumping his dirty battle gear and slipping into an oversized hoodie, he noticed Ana's back facing a one-way window in the interrogation hall. It gave anyone a clear view of the subject’s face.

She was accompanied by a soldier sitting next to her, however the criminals sweaty and nervous expression was much more eye-catching.  
"You’re safe. They will never know it was you. Besides:"  
Amari said carelessly, throwing her feet over the table.  
"What sounds better? Rotting in the country's worst prison forever or guaranteed early release? Because you know we can provide both."  
The big man jolted. Jail was never a pretty word for anyone.  
"ADX is dubbed “Pretty close to Hell” for a reason, you know. God know what they will do to you. And it can be avoided with Just. A few. Words, Mr. Derēos."  
Her voice buzzed sinisterly over the speakers outside the soundproof room. 

Quality show. Reyes always loved how quickly Amari could go from looking and acting like a caring mother to trained assassin and a walking bomb trigger. He grinned and relaxed in the seat by the table against the wall. It was like watching a large HD television, like the old days, as he took in the criminal’s expression. How he could see him battling against himself. So nervous, on edge, trapped. Yeah there was no way he would be released early. She knew that, he knew that, but the Deadlock didn’t. Yes, it is cruel, but it was such a tempting and useful card to play with. 

The man opened his mouth, voice cracking. He didn’t give them much, just filled out some of the information they already knew. Plus whatever new stuff the Deadlock was dealing: mostly weapons and drugs. He told the story of how they got separated from the main group and the fact there was probably more of similar small group scattered about.

"We were gonna escorts McCree to our boss too."  
"McCree?" Ana repeated with interest, removing her legs off the table.  
"Yeah, the brat. It was direct orders. He's supposed to be hot shit or whatever. A good head on his shoulders, heart in the right place and all that jazz. But if ya’ ask me, he's just big talk. Never seen him fight properly. He always hides behind a shield or loses focus on the main battle and sneaks around scaring people for no reason. He’s a cocky annoyance, a fucking fetus."

"You’re real talkative about this “fetus”, Mr. Derēos." Ana hummed, half-annoyed that they were talking about people behind their back.  
"Yeah, cause I want ya guys to take him or whatever. Better to just say he was taken than say he died and ordered to show the body. Boss spesifically ordered: Alive."

Gabriel perked up; McCree then. Let’s see:  
-The kid had a pretty good aim, just not with a gun.  
-Seemed smart, fast as fuck too.  
-He said sneaky? DeadEye McCree was very quiet, even trained soldiers didn’t notice him in the beginning.  
-Took out Gabe himself and three people twice his size.  
God damn, he could see why Deadlock wanted him so badly, 

"You got direct orders to escorts him alive? Not “dead or alive”? Why."  
"Haha. Chica, you’re asking too many questions."  
"Know your place, Mr. Derēos. I can still throw you into hell."  
"Sorry, ma'am."

The soldier accompanying Ana cuffed and escorted The Criminal to his cell. She would be back with a new one, everyone knowing who that was. That left the Egyptian with a free interrogation room to rest where she sat.

"Still amusing to watch you work Amari." Gabe chuckled, patting her on the back. "Want me to fetch you some coffee while we wait?"  
"You really are the famous angel Gabriel, aren’t you? Yes, please. Black. I feels like I’m stuck here for a while if all of them are as stubborn as that man. Sigh."  
Reyes finally laughed. "You've got me here now, so at least you won’t be doing it alone." 

Ana was handed her promised coffee just in time for her next subject to arrive. The kid from earlier, hands still tied and expression drowsy like a drunk. Ana's sleep dart might have been too much of a dosage for such a small human. Those darts were meant to put people like Reinhardt to sleep immediately, therefor it’s just natural for DeadEye to be affected, even several hours after injection. The Deadlock passed Reyes and snickered at the ground. His new scars were clear as day and served as a trophy for the youngster.

Reyes pulled over a chair for himself and sat next to Ana, The Kid was placed down in front of the commanders. Doors shut closed and a small 'bip' went off, indicating that the recoding had begun. He could feel that this conversation would change the life of all three of them.


	6. That's mighty good

"Hello, boy. What is your name?"  
"McCree, Ma'am."  
"And your first name?"  
"I'd rather not, Ma'am."  
"Fair enough. How old are you?  
McCree hesitated for a bit down at the table, gears spinning or the fact that half the world seemed to wobble under his nose. He sighed deeply before returning the eye contact. 

"I was told I turned 17 last month, though I don’t know my birth date."  
The Kid still looked very sleepy, about to fall asleep any moment, but managed to exchange eye contact between the soldiers. He observed The Latino and found no interest, so he slipped deeper down in his chair.

Reyes only listened and observed. Interrogation wasn’t his job but he just had to grimaced before nudging his, barely touched, cup of coffee towards the teen in a suggestion. "You probably need it more than I do." 

"How did you end up with deadlock?" Ana questioned, taking a sip of her own cup. McCree didn’t touch the coffee at first, let the cup stand for a while. He observed Ana drink from an identical cup of his own and concluded that it was ok to drink. 

"I recon the way most people do. Nowhere to go and on the brink of dying."  
He muttered a thank you before tipping the offered cup over his lips. 

"That’s mighty good."

Gabriel was actually very surprised how calm and nice McCree was acting. It’s a hell of a contrast to how criminals usually behaved. He was even thanked, then again: it might be due to being injected with drugs the dose for an elephant. 

"Got any family?"  
"If I did I wouldn’t be sitting here, would I, Lady?" 

The Latino snickered, reaching for his chest pocket. He patted around, nothing. Therefor his hand was lowered back down as The Kid’s eyes tracked him. 

"Touché. You were supposed to be escorted somewhere. Do you know where exactly?"  
"Where? Nah. Somewhere north probably.”  
“Why?”  
“Why? Because I shouted my name loud enough and the Head of Deadlock happened to hear me. McCree, Nicknamed DeadEye. You probably know my work. I’m pretty famous across the border. That act I kept up with you yesterday-- uh. Earlier… This morning?” He corrected himself, baffled as he took another glug of the coffee. He was starting to wake up. 

“Was just some theathre shit to get most of the gang out."  
“Why didn’t you run, McCree? With the other, I mean.”  
“Please. Don’t you cry me a river too, saying I should hide cause I’m small and shit. Boohoo. Listen. Those who can fight, will fight for the survival of the group. Even if ya got’ta sett the building ablaze.”

Reyes sat back crossing his arms over his chest, that’s why he almost threw a lighter into the gasoline. He’s stupid, but loyal, but a fucking idiot.  
Ana leaned forward on her elbows in interest. 

"I see. So, what are you famous for, kid?"  
"Can’t you search that up? Pretty sure I’ve been on the news somewhere down under. Hah. Dios (god), You’re really bad with this questioning thing, aren’t you? Everything I’ve said, but my name, you could just google or used common knowledge to figure out. But I guess my name has already been given to you, seeing as you’re not fanning yourself from fainting. That’s ok I got all day." He said showing off his cuffs. 

Wow, he is definitively getting his energy back. The last guy wasn’t wrong when he described McCree as a “Cocky annoyance”.  
Gabe reached over the table and took the cup back. "Think you had enough." 

Ana was as patient as ever, unmoved by the cocky attitude and unnoticeably tried to sound more like a teenager. 

"I prefer to hear it from the source, you know. Rumours are always so tainted."  
"Haha. I hear ya. Really hate people who speak in circle, ain’t getting’ nowhere. “  
“So, like. Why are you so famous?”  
“That will be another tale to tell." McCree winked, leaning on one elbow to imitate the sniper. 

"Why? If your tale made you famous you should be proud to show it off to everyone, right? I know I would."  
"Even the deadlock was impressed enough to want you at their HQ, surely it must be a good story." Gabe finally butted in. Whatever Ana was doing it seemed to work loosening The Kid up.  
“See? Even this old goat is interested.” 

Ana showed off, realising that it wasn’t such a great tale when McCree dropped his expression and glared down at the metal table. "Is it any of your business? You can just search it up and we can save a bunch of time. Next question.” 

Gabriel tilted his head to the side. "So, you're either bullshitting, which I will likely check later, or you're just not proud of what you've done. That's my guess. Close?" He sipped the coffee. It was getting cooler and empty.

"I'll answer that when you come up with a better question that has a clear reason behind it."  
"Ok then." Ana was a getting tilted by how high on the horse McCree was getting. A few more notches up and she will have to slap The Criminal.

"Where is the Deadlock's main base."  
"That’s a horrible question. Just throw me in jail already, there’s no way you can get me to answer that."  
“Fair enough." Gabe shrugged, reaching for his chest pocket again. He withdrew a cigarillo and moved a bit away from Ana to not bother her as he lit the tobacco and took a deep drag. He really needed that to deal with this. 

"Are you actually that eager to spend the rest of your life in jail?"

McCree jolted, like every other, widening his eyes a little too much as he observed the heat of the cig and shifted in his seat.

"No, but it’s better than on a wasteland, mils away from food, water and people. Never the less surrounded by dead omnics and... and bodies-- But of course. You clean and pretty soldiers wouldn't know anything about that, would you? You can just kick off your shoes and call every day: a day. Gets some kids around, invite great grandpa, have thanksgiving together. Mmmm. Turkey. No sand or bullet wounds for three days in a row."

"Hah. You're talking about Overwatch or Blackwatch now? Because one stays clean on expense of the other.”  
“I have no idea what those words mean but: Yes.”  
"So, you're saying you'd basically sink your roots wherever you can feed yourself?" Gabe exhaled, chewing the cigarillo between his teeth.  
“I’ll sink my roots with the good people: the once whom matter.” McCree looked away from Gabriel, about to ask something but turned his nose instead. It looked like he was choking on his pride. 

“Too many people died to keep me alive. I’ll do everything I can to stay on my legs, I made a promise. I’ll stick with them until people like you are down. Y’all think you’re serving justice when you need to wake up and realized money equals power, and power rules the world. Get a notebook, dama y caballero (lady and gentleman). "  
Ana just shook her head, enjoying whatever bullshit this kid came up with.

Gabe chuckled as the kid talked. "You think that, yet I just listened to one of these guys saying that they don't want you.  That they'd be better off if we took you. Whatever that meant." He glanced at Ana. "How did he phrase it? “He’s a cocky annoyance, a fucking fetus"? Really sounded like he wanted to say: “Ain't nobody want to take care of a child.” Yeah real friendly and caring." Gabe scoffed. "Kid, they even looked at you like they'd smash your head in, if they could, while you were out." He grimaced, shook his head taking in another deep drag of smoke. The tip burned near white then faded into orange.

"Sure, these banjos are just jealous because fresh blood has caught the attention of higher up. I’ll get the hell out’a here and join the top. They definitively want my skin on the saddle so I don’t know what you’re talking about old-- ugh. Mister." He tried to butter up, jump a few notches down.  
"Well you're not getting anywhere now. Jail alongside them if anything."  
"Yeah. Right. Hey, mind if i get a drag of that? I lost my lighter and I’m fairly sure a lady confiscated my supply."

He blinked at the request. "Aren't you too young to smoke?" He questioned. He should have expected he probably picked up nasty habits from the gang. That or the times he were alone. "How long were you tagging along with them?"

McCree was disappointed that he didn't get a simple yes or no. "Never too young for anything, it’s all about knowing and accepting the consequences. And ughh..." he considered lying but really wanted to butter up his privileges thick. That and Ana’s eyes looked like lying detectors right then and there. He only had eyes for the cig, though. 

"Years. Like, I can remember 5, maybe more, years before HQ was free enough to know I had joined their party.”  
"Must have been a long time to get you to the HQ then. Are you sure you're that important to them?" The Blackwatch Commander narrowed his eyes. He considered handing the cigarillo over. Firstly: Ana would disapprove hard and, secondly: he really had no reason to actually give the kid what he wanted.

"Pretty sure… Yup. Just got to learn me that flickity flack, you know. Combat is one thing but giving me my first gun? Wowie. I’m all saddle up. Got’ta get myself out of those mules control sooner or later "  
He seemed so lost, so confident with no idea that any of them would put a bullet in his head or a knife to his back if it wasn’t for orders.  
"Anything else? Cause I don’t know what more you partners want."

Gabriel just shook his head. So lost. There were still bits of innocence in him too. He pitied him. He took another drag of smoke. "Think on your life kid. I'll talk to you again later." 

"You’re going nowhere, kid. Since 'higher ups' want you so badly they will be pleased to hear that we got you. Thank you for valuable information and being bait for your comrades." Ana smiled coldly like a flight attendance.  
"Wait, no. I take it back."  
"Dismissed."  
Ana stood up and waved her wrist for someone to take Mccree away. 

The soldier from earlier arrived to escort the boy back to his cell. That would be enough. Her coffee was gone and she was dead tired, Gabe just wanted to sleep. Decided he'd talk to Morrison in the morning.  He extinguished the half-burnt cigarillo against his cup and stashed it to finish later.  
"Are we done for now?  I actually want to get some sleep... let Ziegler's magic do its thing."

"Sure. get some rest. Ill finish up here and hit the hay soon enough." She hologramed her wrist watch for them both, it was later than expected. "Ugh, tell Angela to not overwork if you see her. We can’t afford to be sued for underpaid student child labour because she doesn’t know what a break is."

"Alright. Don't push yourself too hard either." He gave her a small, affectionate nudge on the shoulder before saying his goodbyes. He did his night routine and dunked Angela’s magic medicine on his face before face-dunking into his bunk. Yes. Finally. He wouldn't get up until his alarm beeped at six-thirty in the morning.  
He could sleep.


	7. The eyes of a surviver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dear god, he doesn't know what donuts are.  
> How long has he been out in the desert?

IT’S SIX-THIRTY, MOTHER FUCKER. TIME TO WAKE UP-- is what Gabriel’s alarm sounded like. It was screaming for the sole purpose of slaughtering eardrums. A series of flashbacks shuffled through his time in placement and training camps, feeding him with nostalgia. It would all flicker and disappear whenever he reached out to slam the head of the alarm to silence it. 

A big groan and a stretch had become a part of his morning routine before cleaning up and gulping down painkillers. The stitches on his face didn’t look too bad in the mirror, the tissue was already starting to heal. The Field Medic had done a great job and with time, he might end up looking somewhat descent with his newfound battle scars.  Huh. 

With comm. piece in ear, Reyes’ heads for The Base Commander’s office. He knocks and enters, not waiting for a reply. There was too much formality in that. 

"Morning, Morrison. How's paperwork? "

"Awful."  Commander Jack frowns, popping up from behind big binders and several large holo-screens with documents. Even though not necessary, there were several bundles of papers littering his trashed desk.  
A blanket rest on The Blonde’s shoulders and his hair was the usual mess, concluding: he must have spent the night in his office.  
A golden retriver lost in the woods; a forest of dead trees.

"I haven't seen the sun in years. Whenever I look out the window it’s either on the other side of the building or behind the horizon."  
He sighs deeply at the window, motioning Gabe to the chair in front of his desk.

"Damn. Have you considered getting a secretary?”  
"Sometimes. But what will second in command be doing if I actually got one. “  
“Let Ana rest already. Any more work and you might as well formally marry her to the job.”  
“I now pronounce you Work and Workaholic.” 

They both appreciated a moment of silence before breaking out in laughter. 

“You should take a day off. Join Amari and I on a food trip. Anyway, we need to talk." The Californian took his seat, leaning elbows on the wooden desk. The scarring on his face had begun to itch as it regrew, making it very annoying. It didn’t raise questions as the Base Commander listened patiently. He did smack Gabriel’s hand away when he attempted to scratch the skin, though. 

"We came back with some Deadlock members from yesterday's mission. Not sure if you're updated on that by now. But among others... there's a kid. Seventeen he says."  
"Holy shit." Jack moves some of his papers aside for more space between them.  
"I heard of your return with the Deadlocks yesterday but... Seventeen? That’s like... that’s Angela... "  
Reyes nodded. "Couldn't believe it either when we saw him. There’s a long history between him and the Deadlocks, so obviously, he believes he’s accepted but, fuck me, Jack. I saw the bloodlust in some of their eyes. He doesn't deserve to be locked up, not with them at least."  
“What do you suggest, Gabe?”  
“I don’t know… Put him in one of our orphan programs?”  
“Gabriel, he’s seventeen. I know there’s good people out there, however, there’s fairly few who are willing to adopt older children with an… unusual background. And by the time someone does adopt him—”  
“—He might as well be past the age limit. You’re right… but he has potential. I’ve seen him, I fought him, he’s too valuable to be behind bars.”

Jack braided his fingers over the desk, looking dumfound as he thought the situation through. He possessed the laws and opportunities, but not all the pieces of the situation. His Blackwatch Agent did, though. Therefor the trust lied with him.

"Hypothetically, if we manage to get this through, somehow. Say he receives a full erasure to go on his merry way: how do you know the kid won’t remain faithful to the Deadlock and go rouge somewhere on the road?"  
"His eyes.”  
“His eyes?” The eastern repeated, arching his brows.  
“The eyes of a survivor. He believed Deadlock was the “Good Guys” for keeping him alive. He mentioned a promise: to keep on his feet, which is why he avoids us.”  
“So, someone fed him the idea that we are the bad guys, that right?”  
“Are we not the bad guys?” Reyes mimicked Morrison’s arched brow, sarcastically, underlining the fact they both knew. They were both aware that Overwatch and Blackwatch wasn’t as clean as the media painted them to be. 

“Gabriel.”  
“I’m sorry. I guess we got to feed him our truth, then. I don’t know what we can do after but keep him close for the time being. I'm not even sure he'll agree to anything we suggest; however, he deserves a choice." 

Jack smiles as his counterpart lean back in his seat with a huff. His arms crossed and foot tapping.  
“You sound like Liao, Mr. Commander, sir.”  
“Don’t compare me to him, please.”  
They both looked up to Liao, which made Jack laugh when The Latino frowned embarrassed. 

"I would like to meet this young punk." Jack rose, shimmying past the desk to get his uniform coat.  
“That was the planned arrangement, Morrison. But right now?”  
“Right now. I have an idea of where we can place him, and... the way you described him kind of sounded like someone we know."

It wasn’t important who Jack referred to, therefor they just settled to get some breakfast in them before their visit. They agreed to fetch some coffee for themselves and this John Doe kid, as Morrison referred him as, before being reminded that his name was McCree.  
“John Mc-- no that doesn’t sound right, Jane McCree then.” Jack corrected. He didn’t feel comfortable calling children by their surname. Neither of them knew McCree's First name either, thus being codenamed: Jane McCree. 

Jack noticed the baked goods in the pastry part of the cafeteria and brought some in a bag for Jane. Maybe he would appreciate it. 

"What's he like? I mean you’ve never played the “special treatment” card before, not even towards new recruits, so it must be something about him." Jack asked, typing away on his holo-screen as they strolled. He didn’t even have eyes on the road, which forced Reyes to physically lead him away from colliding into things and people; he was the commander's unnoficial service dog.

"I don’t give anyone special treatment, I just give them equal ground to stand on, and right now: Jane got none. Let see… He is small, scrawny. Good aim but terrible with a gun. Cocky and smart. Lost…Confused. Talented but he's stubborn too." In all honesty, Gabriel didn't know why he had a soft spot for McCree until he went down the list. It was the perfect description of Jack back when they first met before the old Soldier Enhancement Program. The program is long gone and has been replaced by a hybrid program called “Super Soldier Enhancement” which ended up less… extreme and illegal. To keep SEP a secret they forced the SSE label onto the previous SEP soldiers. Stupid. 

“Sounds like a good kid. Can’t wait.” The farm boy smiled as they passed some tall windows facing the east. The sun was warm on The Young Man's face, lighting up his bright hair like a camera reflector. It was nice to hang out with Morrison again. Ever since he got promoted to US HQ Branch Chief Commander of Overwatch they didn't spend as much time together. Especially when he, himself, received the title as US Special OPS, Commanding Officer. It left him alone in the hands of Blackwatch. 

Jack hadn’t changed a day, he is a painting pinned up on the museum wall. His smile, the main attraction known world-wide as breathtakingly handsome. His eyelashes like strains on a brush, gently waved across his eyes as he blinked. His worth is shouted by the highest bidder until he is left lonely in a room somewhere. That’s the deal with beautiful paintings, in the end: they are hanged up alone. 

The east American never lost focus of his holo-screen and it was concerning how everything was perfectly fine about him. Everything except the dying, grey bags under his eyes and a growing belly under his shirt. This man needs to get out of the building soon. 

Jack typing wasn’t just for show, he had arranged for a meeting with McCree. They found their designated room and Jane was brought in shortly after, to their surprise a little more tired and bruised than what Gabriel remembers from the previous day. He was red and blue on exposed skin, a dark eye to match, a cut lip and a patched nose which seemed like it had taken a beating. Who knows what more his clothes were hiding. They looked too fresh for anything Ana and Gabriel’s OPS squad could have done, which startled The Blond Commander.

"Are we having a picnic?" The Young Boy asked, pointing at the coffee cups and the pastry bag on the table between them, his cuffs jingled to the movement. 

Gabriel tensed, going as far as getting up and approaching for a closer inspection. The silent observation had The Criminal taken aback, nervously glancing between the commanders as he froze in his movements. 

"Is this the work of your fellow cellmates or am I going to have to beat and get someone's ass fired?"  
“I fell.”  
“Liar.”  
“Allergic reaction.”  
“You don’t get black eyes from a reaction.”  
“Geez. What are you, my dad? Why do you care so much?”

The commander huffed tired with a hand slapped on his forehead before returning to his seat.  
“I care because someone is clearly breaking a protection law. When you’re captive in this building, under this roof, you have the right of full protection until transfer. I’m making sure our people don’t step over the line."

McCree clearly reacted to the explanation, jolting as he averted eye contact. The blond soldier nudged the pastry and a cup of coffee towards Jane to break the newly made tension. "Go on." He hummed. "Take your time."

“...My buddy jumped me. His supply was confiscated too, so a small argument broke out when he smelled smoke on mah clothes. Y’all ain’t seen addiction at its lowest. So, thanks for that, chief." Jane sarcastically saluted, making The Commander remember the day before.

"A small argument?" Reyes grunted forcing himself to cool down with a moment to breath. He imagined the times Angela had ended bruised up due to reckless patients.

“Friends don’t let you leave as a punishing bag after an argument.”  
“He's a special case.”  
“How many “special cases” have you encountered, kid. How many psychos is enough?”  
“You fuck off. Bad mouth my people one more time and I will show you psycho.” McCree flared up, yanking his cuffs strapped to the table as he rose. The furniture stayed in place, the same way The Commanders refused to flinch at the sudden movement and amplified voice. It showed in their unamused stares that nothing scared them anymore.  
“There’s good people in there, you horse whips.” The Criminal huffed. Without a reaction, McCree was forced to accept defeat and returned to his seat. 

"I’ll get right to the case then. We might be able to provide you with a deal, kid."  
"A deal?" Jane noticed The Latino glancing between him and the pastry, as if repeating “Go on” like Morrison had earlier. Their expressions were soft, guard off in their relaxed shoulders. Jane inspected the donuts closer, tilting his head to the side with interest, but kept his hands to himself.

"A deal that needs a blond pretty boy like that? You sure you’re supposed to be here and not on a poster, Mister?"  
“His face actually is on a few posters." Gabriel chuckled, leaning back as his partner smiled "I’m flattered”. 

"Back to the topic: are you still stubbornly convinced Deadlock wants the best for you? Even after this?" The LA Soldier gestured at the bruises as he took in his own coffee with a sip.  
"What if we told you: you can be offered a choice? I'll go ahead and assume you didn't have much of that in your life."  
"A choice?" The word was strange on the tongue as he rolled it around his mouth. "A choice like snitching on the gang or being forced to eat... that? What is that anyway? ‘Pretty sure food ain’t supposed to have that many colours on it." He huffed, referring to the glace and sprinkles on the donuts in the see-through part of the pastry bag. He proceeded to lean forward and sniff the cup of coffee in front of him. The aroma filling his nostrils, making him close his eyes for better enjoyment.

Jane spoke with pride, but constantly analysing food and must be nerve-wrecking.  
"Checking for poison. Experienced." Jack noted loud enough to receive a nod from Reyes as they observed. 

Dear God, he doesn't know what donuts are. How long has he been out in the desert? 

"We don't need you to snitch and nobody is forcing you to eat that. Jack, here, thought you might appreciate it. If you like sweet things, you'll love it." Gabe shrugged, reaching over to snatch one of the donuts to bite in. "See? No poison here, kiddo. Relax." 

The Latino waited to see if he'd cave for the treat to ask further about the deal. It was bad to pressure him any more than he had done.

"Whatever. I’ll listen to the deal. 's not like I can do much to refuse now, can I? Hands literary tied, So I’m all ears."  
“We won't pressure you into anything." Jane fell at ease when The Older Man had swallowed without gaging or reactively sweat upon consuming the treat. He copied by biting down on his own donut, taste new yet familiar, making McCree’s face beam up as he chewed. 

"Let's say I can offer you a place where you wouldn't have to worry about food, training or being beat up over cigarettes again.”  
“Our motto: The world could always use more heroes. You'd make a good one with proper training and some help to get on your feet.” Jack added, drinking his coffee now that everyone was having a feast.

"Hero, huh. Ain’t heroes suppose to be pure and pretty beings that save people? 'fraid that’s a little too late for me." He adjusted his scarf, pulling it a closer to himself with a frown.  
"I’ve bought my ticket to the rodeo and got to live with the ride, right? Isn’t that what people like you always say about people like me with tainted hands."

"You didn’t buy anything, Jane. It was forcibly given to you and you just did what you could to survive through the aftermath. It’s okay.” Morrison corrected, no reaction to being called Jane.  
“But… I’ve done a lot of shit. You can’t just let me go.”  
“We can and we will. There is nothing documented and every state won't take you responsible for your federal actions until you’re a legal adult. Everything can disappear as if it never happened.”  
“…r-really?”  
“Yeah. I suppose you don’t have anywhere to go, so we will provide with a spot in our Orphan Program. You'll be placed into a foster home until your adoption.”  
“…What’s the catch.”

Jack furrowed his brows together at his partner for a moment, opening his mouth but hesitent to say anything.  
“You have to be adopted before you turn nineteen and serve for Overwatch in your military duty.”

The room fell into silence, the soundproof walls really did its job.  
Jane was much calmer now, tapping his cup rhythmically as he shoved the rest of his donut into his mouth.  
"Have you heard about the Hot Shot Crisis, or whatever, at the Mexico border?” He finally asked, receiving unsure head shakes from the both older men. The rest of his donut went down smootly. 

“I’ve tried finding some place else, believe me, for years I’ve known I ain’t wanted. So, what can merely two years’ change. I’m tellin’ ya. God can’t forgive me for the things I’ve done, so how can the law.“ He slowly sipped his coffee, carefull to blow the steam away.

Reyes sighed, stroking his temple with closed eyes. "Nobody got clean hands kid, and trust me we know. But it's okay. It's really not too late. You're maybe at a quarter of your life. There's so much you can still do to change everything. Also, personally, as a soldier I don't believe in God. If he were real: he wouldn't allow all this suffering. He wouldn’t allow mass death and he wouldn’t have placed you where you sit. I believe in free will and the ability humans possess to change themselves and the world. You possess that, and I know you can do good.”

Jane didn’t respond and didn’t do anything but stare into his cup, wrinkling his nose and squinting his eyes at the reflection. 

“We can easily take care of the formalities, McCree." Well, not that easy.  
"It all depends on what you choose, kid. Don't think of legal, don't think of what you did in the past. Tell me what _you_ want.”

"I want to live.”  
“…Go on.”  
“I want to dispense justice wherever it’s needed..."  
“Because?”  
Jane stirred his coffee around and looked at both men in front of him.  
"Someone got to stand up for the lesser folks, the folks that need help and ain’t getting any from the people responsible for their misery. If there are faces in need of punching, I’ll keep me there to serve my share."

The eyes of a survivor. Despite one being darker from a beating, it didn’t stop them from burning holes in the wall. Fierce with determination. They looked like Reinhardt's eyes whenever he would make a public speaking, promising to protect.

“Can I do that if I say yes?"

The Soldiers inhaled with a smiles on their faces, shivers running up their necks. They saw what new recruits had, but better- much better. A veteran in a Private’s body, they liked it.  
"We certainly can do that. No problem. The only issue now is the adoption—"  
“I’ll do it.” Gabriel interrupted his partner, getting confused blinks from both the younger men. He finished off his coffee with a big gulp and got up. 

“You think after beating my ass I’ll just let you go? Nah, I’ll be your guardian for your remaining year as a baby clod just so I can get revenge. Is it a deal?"

Jane rose speechless, looking at the large hand stretched out to him. Everything about him screamed confusion, unsure where he should place his eyes before he finally glanced in the direction of the younger Commander. His face was in contrast beaming with a blinding smile and big eyes, nodding rabidly in approval that yes, this was indeed possible and legal.

"...it’s a deal."

Good. Perfect. God, he was glad it turned out this way. Everyone shook hands with a satisfied expression, McCree still slightly hesitant to take their hands but he managed. 

“Welcome aboard Jane McCree. We'll get started on paperwork then. Someone will come to pick you up in an hour or two and you'll have to go through some medical tests. You'll like the medic." Gabriel grinned. "Oh, and you will actually need to reveal your first name or else we will be forced to call you Jane McCree or John Doe."

He didn’t like the thought of that. 

"Yes, sir. Ugh... Jane… Jesse McCree, sir." Jesse shifted in his foting.  
"Well then, Jesse. Enjoy your coffee, we'll be back soon." The soldier outside entered to free Jesse from his cuffs. 

All three of them retreated outside leaving the former gang child alone in the interrogation room. "Told you." He turned to Jack as they walked. "You think Reinhardt could mentor the brat?"  
"Don't drag the old man into this, this is on you. You found him? You mentor him. Direct orders from Base Commander." Jack patted Gabe's shoulder, wiping his smug expression all over the Latino as they walked.

"Besides, you’re great...ish! With young people I mean. Besides, his fighting style is close combat and firearm so you’re perfect."  
"What? Shit. No, come on that's a terrible idea. I'm no good for a teacher and you know it. You constantly give me shit for bullying new recruits." Great-ish. Wow. Charming. "...don't do this to me Jack. Think about the paperwork."

Jack blew a raspberry in disappointment, straightening his coat like a proper official with his nose high in the air.  
"Fine, Reinhardt can be the mentor. On one condition: Ana and I get to be god parents.”

God parents, huh. Honestly, Impossible to say no to Morrison. He sighed which made Jack chuckle.  

"Fine, let's just get the preparations done and over with."  
"Yes, sir. Right this way."


	8. Nice underwear, Patriot.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree gets a medical examination and makes friend with the tired Angela

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all who liked the fic, and thank you for waiting!  
> Ive just been away to relax and calm down stress after the exams.
> 
> The fic should update one or twice a week now that im back.  
> Maybe even 3 times a week. 
> 
> Ask me anything if youre wondering! Dont be shy, its summer so im doing nohing :U

Jack was graceful the way he invited Gabriel into his office, making him write out every report from yesterday’s mission in great detail, as well as foster guardian documents. The Latino could feel his bottom already going numb by the sheer number of pages displayed at the bottom of his tablet. 

The office-owner researched whatever he could about the kid to no luck, until he data-mined “Hot Shot Crises” 20xx, 7 years ago in south New Mexico. Mass murder of both humans and omnics, Cause: experimental everything. Weapons, drugs, bio-technology, you name it. The first terror attack was an army of children working like hive minds. No names were mentioned, no children reported missing at the time either. They just appeared and attacked. Attacked what, however? 

The soldiers left the reports be before they regretted anything. 

Meanwhile, Jesse was brought his own papers to sign, and the god parents, Jack and Ana ended up signing away their names as well. Unfortunately, Reinhardt had no other choice than to fill out some private mentor documents, though he couldn’t have been happier. He was finally able to meet this “wonder child” his Commanders had told him so much about over voice chat. 

The German knight bounced like a teenage girl, drunk on love, towards the interrogation rooms right away to escort his objective. With a wide smile to greet the young man alone in the empty intel-room, he excitedly ducked under the door frame, being a giant over 2 meters (6 feet) tall. 

A mountain of a man.  
He might have appeared very intimidating at first. Huge.  
Bright hair slicked back to frame his head and a thick, scratchy beard showing off his age; left eye blinded with a scar. His stance was proud, with hands on his hips, as he halted in a flawless military salute. He was your first Google image of a war veteran, with his booming hero voice filling the room. 

"Greetings! You must be Jesse McCree Amari Reyes." He laughed, amused by the name he had read in his documents. "I am here to escort you to Miss Ziegler. Shall we go?"  
"Sure thing, stranger. I was just about done sitting in one place and looking at grey walls."

Waiting for the soldier to lead the way and followed suit was the only choice Jesse had as they strolled. Every step Reinhardt took, the young man fell four behind, even leaping every footing didn’t help, not with one leg halting. 

"Oh, apologies. My name is Reinhardt Wilhelm, Colonel Commander of the crusader table."  
“What does that mean?”  
“It means I get to order a lot of big people, hehehe!” The knight could hear the boy struggle to keep up behind him. Experience told him his knee had twisted by some sort of fall, tearing a tendon out of position. He didn't wait for an answer as he turned around to scoop McCree off the floor and bring him over his shoulder, happily striding along.  
"Do you need a lift young man? Hahah!"  
"Goodness, what the—“

Except curious looks towards Jesse, it seemed like the surrounding people were used to The Colonel giving people piggy-back rides, reacting with nothing than a chuckle and a head-shake when they passed by. McCree noticed the room had begun to tilt, the urge to cover his entire head with his scarf increased as his face heated up just by sitting on Reinhardt’s shoulder. Touching was unusual, resulting in nowhere to hold on to as The Boy feared for a two-meter drop, the entire trip, towards a white hall. The surroundings smelled like clean alcohol, the one you shouldn’t drink, and toothpaste as they transitioned from summer-room-temperature to cooler air. 

Mercy was alone in the medium-sized med-bay upon arrival. She must have been up early by the look of the equipment on the examination table. All sorts of old fashion and fancy, new tools waiting for Jesse across the room.

Should medics already be working this early in the morning? 

The Criminal was placed back down on the ground and gently nudged towards the small lady. She was placing her stocks and bottle of mysteries back on their shelfs, oblivious to her surroundings until her name was called.

"Angela, sweetheart, I brought the newest recruit." He sang, ducking under the doorframe again.  
"Just a moment!" She sang in return, like the next line in a song - a duo only they knew, but everyone could dance to. 

Her fiddling by the cabinet didn’t take long. With a push of a button, the slickly designed storage unit slid back into the wall where it came from. She spun towards her visitors, limbs floating like feather as she moved. She was indeed beautiful, nothing too special with make-up lazily covering the bags under her eyes and uniform attempting to hide a skinny frame. It was just something about the light, the angle dawn graced her skin seemed religious. 

You can make a religion out of this.

She didn’t look much older than McCree, maybe younger even, which made both jolt back with outstretched eyes, the size of dinner plates. The Angle scanned her opposite over, with a stern look, after he had mimicked the surprised hand on her chest. 

"Sit down." She ordered the older Blond Man, pointing at the bench by the wall. He obeyed without hesitation, his characteristic smile strong on display as he nodded. It baffled the criminal that a roughly 170cm, 50kg, teenage girl was able to order a building of a war veteran to take a seat away from the scene. It frightened him more so when she pointed at her examination table, eyes preying directly at him.

“You too, don’t worry about him, he’s just here as guard. Reinhardt, old friend, how is your eye treating you?" The Medic hummed as she passed her desk to fetch a tablet and pen like object, clicking the buttons on it more than necessary.  
"As good as it gets. Nothing to add."  
“No pain or headaches?”  
“None at all, doctor. Haha! I’m better than ever.”  
“I’m just worried, is all. And I’m not a doctor…Yet!” She smiled, booping the air as if booping the soldier’s nose from across the room.  
It had McCree observing with interest as he glanced between the blond officials, whistling a long tune impressed in his seat. 

"Doctor in training, huh? Both beautiful and smart.”  
“I do what I can.” She shrugged at The Boy.  
“Name’s McCree, but you can call me whatever you like, darling. What do I refer you as?"  
"Angela Ziegler. I'll need your full name, please." She stood over him, uninterested with a raised brow, seeming more captivated by whatever was on her screen.  
"Jesse McCree. So, tell me, Angela. Is—“  
“Ahem.” She interrupted The Western, tapping her pen over the edge of the tablet.  
“Your _Full_ name.”  
“…Jesse McCree Amari Reyes“ He corrected, rolling his eyes back into another realm of reality. On the bright side, he did receive a small applause from the Medic; which he enjoyed as her giggling infected him. 

“My apologies, you just have to get used to saying that correctly. Do continue from where you left off. “  
“So, tell me, Angela. Is your name just a coincidence or are you really an angel sent from heaven?”  
“Why do you need an angel when you’re clearly in need of medical attention.”  
“Because only an angel can heal the wound in my heart.” Jesse traced a heart shape over his chest when Ziegler wanted nothing more than to roll her eyes into the back of her head, like her patient attempted earlier. 

“No, jokes aside. Everything really hurt and the pills I got earlier has worn off."  
"I can prescribe you some painkillers later. Depends if it's only soreness and bruises or anything else." Her pen spun around her fingers as she reviewed the situation with the content of her tablet.

"I'm going to have to take your blood tests, some measurements, minor tests like sight, reflexes and APO level and bone structure."  
“I have no idea what half of that means, but sure. You’re not sticking anything in me, though.”  
“You can do it yourself if you’d like.” The Medic didn’t like people fiddling with her equipment, but she disliked stubborn people even more, meaning she didn’t hesitate to nudge the blood-sampler closer as she tended to McCree’s older wounds. 

No answer when she dabbed on medication and changed the bandages over his nose and lower arm. She did catch her opposite glance back and forth between the syringes, eyes rapidly moving to catch hers, attempting to distract her from the body language he was giving off. He seemed… so small, so strange where he sat. As if the world was watching him, alone on a stage with a gun against his head. He was among strangers somewhere he has never been, eyes to eyes with a syringe straighter than the markings on the highways he drove on. 

The thought hit her. She had forgotten that she wasn’t dealing with a soldier, or an enemy or a random by-passer. It was just “someone”, anxious with everything. He did sign his name away to Overwatch, but he never signed up for being anywhere in this war. The logo on his belt buckle reassured that fact. If it wasn’t for his clothes, looking older than himself and more worn than any veteran, she could have mistaken Jesse for a fellow doctor student. 

She sat down on the chair behind her, few feet away to face McCree. 

“If I wanted your life, you would have been _dead_ right now. There’s a gun under the desk, a knife in my pen, medical equipment to your left and a Crusader to your right. You could be suffering from an overdose the moment you stepped into the room but I don’t want that. I just want to do my job as a medic. I don’t care if you don’t trust me, l just want to help you get better, relieve you from damage and future pain. That way you can help others. So please, may I?”

Angela might have been warming up to The Criminal, because when she expected an anger fit or a sarcastic laugh, she got a scoffed smirk and an exposed arm. 

The samples didn’t take long to retrieve, even though it felt like merely a second for Ziegler, dwelling in her own head. The blood was unusually warm in their tubes and didn’t quit have the right colour or hue, darker than she had seen before, which interested her. The way the liquid bobbed from one side to the other made it look much thicker than it should have, like fresh oil fished up from the bottom of the ocean, or the gravy she had during Christmas. Why was that? 

“You alright, doc?”  
“Huh? Ye-yeah. Five tubes, all done. I’m sending some of these to the lab. So, you just drink that water over there.”  
"Are we going to do physical testes now, like sight? Cause, darling. I’ve been praised for have having a good eye." McCree winked as The Field Medic fed the tubes into a vacuum port in the wall. 

"...aren't you a charmer. " She'd probably react more if she wasn't working, and if she wasn't so damn tired.

The Boy had a glow to him, underneath the thick layers of dirty clothes he had on his back. His face was clean however it must have been a few weeks since he had seen a shower. It didn’t ruin his facade, thought, oh no. The ruff look and the dust across his mane like hairstyle made him look handsome, independent and insecure all at the same time. She couldn’t quit place a finger on it, but the way he attempted to flirt, impress and made conversation seemed so defensive. Always about her, the surroundings or general information anyone would have been able to make up on the spot. It felt like he was reciting lines from a script, in a movie published decades ago. A cheesed-up romance-comedy by a studio no one have ever heard of. 

During her few check-ups the cord struck.  
She discovered a pattern when McCree confidently obeyed everything she asked for. He insisted on doing everything himself with little to no body contact.  
Things like sticking a q-tip down his throat for a slime sample or sticking the stethoscope on his chest himself.

Unsurprisingly, The Boy was top notch, scoring perfectly normal in every field. She just had to know though, why he grinned his teeth together every time he raised his arms. 

"Reinhardt, could I ask you to get me some coffee?" Wilhelm straightened his sitting, his arms crossed as he eyed the two. Not quit understanding why, he took the hint that he wasn't wanted then and there. For whatever reason didn’t matter. He knew The Field Medic could take care of herself if needed, however leaving her alone...again? He didn’t quit like that. 

"Black?"  
"Yes, but not your type of black. I don't need anything to chew on right now." She chuckled, breaking out a howl of a laugher from The Colonel.  
He didn’t hesitate to exit the room, leaving nothing but a heartbeat for the young Criminal to prepare himself. 

"He is gone. I need to look at your tendons therefor the shirt must come off. There should be something fresh around here so you don’t have to go around in dirty clothes before getting supplied a uniform."

"Uhh..." He furrowed his brows and blinked at her, as if she had offended the king in front of the entire country on live television. It didn’t seem he knew how to react when his scarf was pulled closer against his face. 

"I promise, missy. It ain’t much of a pretty sight as the one you see in the mirror every day. Are you cool with that?"  
"Don't worry. I've seen worse." She stated and gracefully closed the main entrance. Whatever Jesse would be embarrassed of, she knew she had seen worse. If she hadn’t, she surely would in the next few years after her exam. 

"It's a medical examination. Confidential for me, guardians, and other doctors only. Fear not." She approached but kept a comfortable distance. She eyed his skin with a small frown as the red scarf and his leather jacket slipped off. 

"Roger that, doc."  
McCree peeled his baseball shirt off next, groaning as his arms were raised above his head. The beating he had received the previous night were still pretty fresh, thus tainting the skin over his ribs.  
His new bruises didn't really matter, you couldn’t make a messy canvas any messier by randomly adding paint- but you could always try. 

There were a two bullet wounds in the gut, treated by an amateur and what could only be predicted as knife wounds or other sharp objects around his sides.  
Long thin scars of asphalt or gravel were running along his shoulders and arms as the shirt was completely thrown off. Some places were so repeatedly damaged that they had begun to cave in.  
None of them looked lethal, luckily. 

The long, even scratches on his back resembled nails. The bruises and markings around his neck and chest, in groups of five or four, looked like fingerprints pressed in with brutal force. The disturbing part was that his tan was blending into similar markings leading down his hip bones. 

Angela let her eyes fall close for a moment. "I'll prescribe you painkillers a-and something to rub into those bruises... I have some experimental skin cream too, for, well you know." 

It had been a while since she dropped the “cold medic” act towards someone during work. She just felt depressed, apologetic, like she was sorry she couldn’t work faster. As if she could do anything to change what had already happened by drizzling some science over him. 

She didn’t ask any unnecessary questions, it wasn’t her job to be nosy unless for documentation. 

His body type: underfed.  
Muscle type: Type 1.  
Heavy damaged: Nothing but his fractured knee. 

She noted all the recent damage she could see, prescribing medicine for future use.  
When everything was done she fetched him a fresh combo of dark blue sweatpants and white shirt with the Overwatch logo on. 

"Here. You're safe here, Jesse. Nobody will hurt you at Overwatch, I promise." She smiled, beamed with warmth and care. "Make sure to eat plenty. And take it easy for now and let yourself heal.” 

"Sure, doc. Don’t you need to do the same? If I wasn’t mistaken, us two about the same height as each other, yet less mass than that desk over there. I know ladies like to keep their diet, but soon it won’t be much of left of y’all to take care of me.”  
He winked after his shirt was set and ready.

“I do _eat_ and rest!” She whined defensively.  
“Yet you look like a ghost paler than your coat and tinier than the pen you’re holding."  
“And what if I do?”  
“I’m telling ya to get a vacation and stop worrying. I can see the pity in your brows. My eyes are up here, missy. Not down here.” He chuckled, directing around his torso area as he changed pants. Stories still littering his skin all the way down to his socks. 

When she discovered it, she couldn’t help snickering, turning away to cover up her drunk smile. 

“Nice underwear, patriot.” She sneered as he glanced back at her.  
“Oh this? You like it?”  
“Hahah. I do. Where do they even sell those.”  
“No idea. My pa bought it for me when we swung by Amarillo in Texas.”  
“Your Dad did?”  
“My what?”  
“You just said your father bought it.” 

Strangely enough it took a moment for McCree to process what had just happened, what had just spilled out of his mouth. When the bell had rung he pulled his pants back up. 

“Right, my father. He was…more of a guy who kept an eye on me for a few years… when I was younger.” Jesse corrected as if putting the pieces together to make sense for anyone else than himself. 

“Right.” She repeated, leaving them staring suspiciously at each other. Angela lost the staring contest when her opposite suddenly stuck his tongue out to make a funny face. The change in the atmosphere had her leaning over her desk, laughing when The Colonel returned with coffee in his hands. 

"Well, you’ll see me around. I don’t much move from here" She though he was actually very cute and became suddenly very happy that he was going to become a soldier here at the base. She hoped his documents got accepted, or this would be a lost fight.


	9. Oath of Enlistment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Good news, kid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey :U

"What do you think so far?" Reinhardt mused over their food as they sat down. Halls were streaming and the dinning-quarter were soon filled with unfamiliar faces. In contrast to earlier this morning, when Reinhardt had spent the time showing off the facilities and telling tales from the war. They exchanged chatter as they strolled, The Young Criminal mapping out the area when they proceeded. 

Wilhelm liked the curiosity his escort held. His shyness slowly melted away with each poking question and completely disappearing when the largest shooting range was showcased. Weapons, alcohol and battle strategies seemed to be their common ground, topics they visited frequently. 

Even though they exchanged stories like long lost brothers, The Colonel felt like he couldn’t get through to his companion. The DeadLock didn’t open up as frequently as he had hoped, and prying wasn’t his thing. But he felt he had to at some point. Jesse was a good kid, he could see it even though he, himself, denied that fact. 

“Good intentions” he had corrected when they watched The Airforce clean out their aircrafts. “Ain’t good, Aint bad either. I’m just here.”  
He seemed too much of an adult for his own good, with the thought-prosess of a five-year old. Things like sticking his finger into places he knew it would get stuck and asking about things that didn’t matter, once he became comfortable. 

Wilhelm would often be unable to hear the young one waltz off on his own, losing track of his whereabouts every so often. The small boy was light on his feet, however not when they got outside. The crunching of gravel and dead leaves was loud under Jesse’s feet, but not as loud as The Soldier himself. 

The forest surrounding the base seemed to be McCree’s favourite part of the tour so far. The way the mist twirled and evaporated as the sun rose to its highest made The Boy so happy. He hadn’t realized it had become so late in the day and touching something that wasn’t dead for once sparked life in The DeadLock. 

“There’s more to see later, when we finish. We just can’t leave base due to the detector.” Reinhardt informed, biting down on his pasta covered piece of bread. Those two had similar eating habits, The Colonel noticed, when the Young Man swallowed a fried chicken leg sandwiched between two pieces of lettuce.

"You mean the thing around my ankle? Don’t worry ‘bout it, Lady from earlier explained everythin’. Don’t want me to go bat-shit on chillin’ soldiers now, do we?”  
“That’s not—“  
“Sir, I’m joking. ‘s okay, really. If me keeping this doodad on makes everyone feel better—”. He summarized, clearly, vocalizing every other vowel when his leg came peeking over the table. The fabric of his pants covered half of the white, silicon bracelet when it was displayed. 

Invention thin enough to not be a bother, with a slick design, but long enough so nothing could easily snap it. The silicon was so close to the skin that the only alternative to removing the device was by amputation.

“—Then it ain’t half bad. At least it ain’t a shock-collar or anythin’. Just help me eat all of this in one sitting and we call it even.”

McCree dramatically gestured toward the hill of food on his tray, two-thirds of it forced upon him by The Crusader. He insisted the puny sandwich The Deadlock had selected wasn’t nearly enough for a growing man; thus, they ended up with enough to feed a village. 

“Deal. Hold my hair.”  
“You have too much hair, sir. How am I suppose to eat and hold it back. Haha.”

\---

By the time Gabriel finished filling out reports, among other paperwork, and skimming documents juggled left and right, the day had passed three PM. There was still one more issue that kept him busy for longer though: they had no room ready for housing a recruit at the moment. 

Great. 

Jack apologized and got laughed off when he mentioned that giving The Kid an empty cell for one more night was an option. 

"He's not spending any more time in cells. I'll figure something out." Gabriel grunted and left The Base Commander in his office. 

What do.

He contacted Reinhardt on the radio to check their whereabouts. The Colonel was far from a boring person to the point that guarding his objective in one spot was unusual behaviour. They could be anywhere. 

He saw The Crusader from counties away, back broad and solid against the railing of the open balcony area they had agreed to meet on. The view was mesmerizing from the west side of the watchpoint, it cued The Commander to take a deep breath before he lost it. 

The fading light made the withering trees by the base of the mountain seem so ominous, yet so warming when he made the colour connection to McCree’s hair and scarf tucked around his neck.  
The smell of moist freshness carried itself through the warm breeze to shuffle leaves and hair. The wind hadn’t become strong enough to affect Wilhelm’s beat of a mane quit yet. 

"And how's our ingrate doing?" Reyes mused once he was close enough to not yell.

“You talking about me, partner?” The Young One barked playfully.  
“Both gained and lost several pounds. Kinda miss sitting down in that boring-ass-room, now.”

“We had a hot-dog eating contest!” Reinhardt added proudly, patting The Boy on the back as the three of them chuckled. Gabriel had past experience with people being challenged to eating hot-dogs with The European. It wasn’t like bratwurst-- but it was the next best thing, Reinhardt had told him. And if it made his soldiers happy, he was happy too.

They all let the laugher die down, staring intensely at the horizon, where the sun almost completely dipped under. It might be the last time the three of them could see it together, because none of then wanted to ask. None of them wanted to be the first to bring up the question, in fear of bad feedback. Even Reyes, who knew the answer, was unsure how The Boy would react. 

“…Did the thing get through?”  
“The thing?” Reyed repeated.  
“The papers we signed, about...this.” He gestured, with both hands, at something invisible in front of him. It didn't help illustrate exactly what he meant, however, The Soldiers understood. 

Gabriel lit a cigarette to take a deep drag out of, exchanging glances with his German knight over The DeadLock’s head. He managed to communicate his reply with just a flick of the brow and a smirk around the smoke, drawing stupid smiles out of the largest of the three. He wanted to build the tension, play The Boy around so the answer would be much bigger of a surprise when he finally heard it-- but the suspense was killing him. Jesse’s hands gripped the railing tighter when The Commander sharply inhaled the forest air.

"Papers went through. Officially then: Welcome to the team. Are you ready to do your oath of enlistment?” The Commander added when the two did a pre-matured jumping-session in celebration. 

“You bet’cha!” McCree did a sharp turn towards his new boss and saluted with his left hand, legs tightly planted together. It only made Reyes chuckle, instructing him how to stand and what they were about to do. 

“Will you be his witness, Reinhardt?”  
“I would love to.”  
“Alright, then we start.” 

Gabriel asked a mile of questions from a screen holo-grammed out of his watch, some of them they already knew the answer to but was explained that it was merely regulation. Finally the army oath for Overwatch was read, repeated by The New Recruit to serve and follow orders to protect the world and the people in it; omnic and man alike. 

“Good, any questions?”  
“No, sir!”  
“Then I grant you access to serve Overwatch and its branches. Congratulations. You are dismissed.”  
“Thank you, sir!” McCree saluted from his earlier raised hand, wrapping up their ceremony. Reinhardt was about to shed a tear as he nearly broke The Private’s spine in one of his famous Bear Hugs. He refused to let Jesse go unless he returned the favour. It was a weak return, but a hug none the less. 

The short moment of happy-feet said Farwell for the day when the boys waved Reinhardt off-duty. The smile Reinhardt always wore had somewhere along the day transferred itself over to The Young Recruit. The way you could tell if a block of butter was solid or soft you could also tell that Jesse’s expression was more genuine than from the first time he showed his face. He was no longer raspy and hard to handle, but rather felt like everything from here on out would smear on smoothly. 

“When am I going out?”  
“Going out?”  
“Deployed! I want to get out there!”  
“Put your gear on parking, you’re in for special training before you do anything at all outside.”  
“Training.”  
“You’re far behind everyone in your squad, so you better make up for it before I regret doing you this solid.”  
“Training…” McCree repeated, taking in the word like it was giving him life, mint-like fresh prickles of waves under his skin. 

The Private snickered to himself before breaking out laughing. It was a good laugh, the kind you would hold over your stomach to stop; only to become more painful than necessary. Gasping for air, lungs fresh out of the dry sandbox he had been stuck in for years. Breathing tasted sweet. 

"Easy there. Don't suffocate yourself.  You alright?"  
“Yeah, I swear, mister. I ain’t crazy, haha-- it’s just!”  
The western wrapped an arm around Gabriel`s neck, clearly hesitant when he pause to look The Older Man square in the eyes and decided “Fuck it.” It didn’t take a second before he had his boss in a sailor hug to rub the side of their heads together.  
“Thank you, Partner. Thank you!”  
"Now calm down there, boy. There's still one issue. " The commander chuckled, looping an arm around in a gentle headlock while he rubbed his knuckles against The Kid’s hair. 

“O-oh?”  
"The problem is that we sadly don't have a room ready to house you in yet. It should be ready in a day or two but until then, I need to figure out where to put you."  
McCree snorted and leaned his back against the railing, looking down the hall as his commander painted the air white with his lungs. 

“If it fits, I can nap on it. Benching myself is hardly a problem. Like those stairs over there, or that statue. A chair would be nice too, or a window frame if its large enough. Man, have you ever slept in a window? Ain’t nothing more relaxing with the sun warming up your face and the glass cooling off your skin at the same time.” He chuckled.  
"Yeah, no.” Gabriel grimaced. “You're not sleeping in a window."  
“No worries, I’ll just take a corner. I nicked a spot earlier that looked mighty comfy.”  
“No, it’s—“ The Commander pinched the bridge of his nose, deep in thought as he inhaled what was left of his cigarette. "I have to keep you within sight or under supervision, so I guess the only option is that you stay with me." He finally stated quietly and nodded at himself.    
"There's plenty of space. "  
“Oh, like a roomie.”  
“Like a roomie.” He smiled, extinguishing the butt of his smoke and proceeded to lead the way back inside.  
“Alrighty then… ugh… Boss? That about right?”  
“That will do.”


	10. Salute o7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chat log initiated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was either one long ass chapter, but waiting two more days  
> Or one short now and one long later

#### \----Messenger Open----

#### \----Private log initiated---

JM:Ana  
JM:Ana  
JM:Banana  
JM:Amari!  
AA:What!  
JM:Good news!  
AA:Lay it on me, then.  
JM:Dont you want to guess?  
AA:Hmm… I suppose. Did the farmer visit again?  
JM:No though I want to know how his ducks are doing  
AA:Me too.  
AA:His duck eggs are the best.  
JM:Haha yeah  
JM:Thats your first strike, go again  
AA:Did Fareeha do something?  
AA:Did you do something!?  
JM:What  
AA:I SWEAR if I get another inspector IN MY OFFICE!  
JM:No inspector I promise!  
JM:I’ll take a break soon, no more overwork warnings  
JM:The news is Jesse, hes in!  
AA:Really?  
JM:Really  
AA:Wow, I’m…  
AA:I will keep an eye on him since he’s serving under my company.  
AA:This is amazing! No jail!  
JM:No jail!  
AA:When does his platoon arrive?  
JM:Same day as the new dorms are opening, Gabe is figuring something out about housing in the meantime  
JM:I hope he goes easy on Jesse  
AA:Not too easy, though.  
JM:Ana…  
AA:You’re allowed to beat him around the bush too, you know.  
JM:Hes just a kid  
AA:He is everything but a kid.  
AA:I don’t know if you have been mid-west Texas lately,  
AA:Or if you have seen what he managed to do to my squad,  
AA:So let me paint the picture:  
AA:There is a drought.  
JM:Ive heard about this, do go on  
AA:There is plenty of unsupervised space down there.  
JM:I see  
AA:Withering cities whom can be exploited,  
JM:Mm-hm  
AA:A lot of special people spawn there.  
AA:And it is nothing like Indiana.  
JM:No way! I never knew  
AA:Shut up.  
JM:I just want him to look at us differently  
JM:So we have more talented soldier on our team whom can teach away their skills  
JM:So stuff like… you know, dont happen again  
AA:Do I know stuff?  
JM:Stuff like Her  
AA:Don’t say Her name.  
JM:I didnt! Im sorry  
JM:I miss her too you know  
JM:I miss both of them  
AA:Stop.  
JM:It better to talk about it then forget it ever happened, ana  
AA:I do talk about it, just not with you.  
JM:Im sorry  
AA: You did nothing.  
AA:Sorry doesn’t fix this.  
JM:What do you want me to do then  
AA:Be there for Jesse, not just behind your desk like with Him.  
AA:Get that boy somewhere, out of this war and I will accept your apology.  
JM:He has a one-year duty, though  
AA:Then make him a good man until then.  
JM:Okay  
AA:One more thing.  
JM:Yes?  
AA:You have a dentist appointment this Friday.  
JM:Hahah! Really? Okay  
AA:Don’t miss it this time! The doctor was so mad when you didn’t show up!  
JM:Sorry, shes scary   
AA:Very, heh.  
AA:Salute, commander.  
JM:Salute o7  
AA:What is that?  
JM:Its a little guy saluting  
AA:Oh!  
AA:o7  
JM:Pff Dismissed  


#### Terminate log?  
Y/N


	11. What now?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Give the puppy a bath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Theres so many of you! omg, theres three times as many people than my school. 
> 
> Sorry for slow start, but this is really just a relationship build up to when shit goes down.  
> There will be conflict, and this build-up will explain how the conflict is resolved. 
> 
> Also, theres an easter eggs and references in every chapter. even tiny once.  
> See if you can spot them all.

"Won't do.”  
“Come on! Why not?”  
“Can't walk around in that here. You dress to impress, that's probably why people haven’t approached you all day." The Commander explained as he went down long shelves of the personal equipment department. He picked out shirts, sweaters, shoes, socks, pants, everything, and placed it in the box McCree held in his arms. 

“What´s wrong with my suit?” The Boy looked himself over with a twirl. Glancing his way Gabriel noticed a new detail on the leather jacket The Private wore. The colour created the illusion of newly bought, but the leather was too stretched for that to have happened. Nothing but a few ugly dents and faded scratches along the seams littered the surface. Places like the elbow had been smoothed out with time and any signs of bullet holes has been neatly patched up. The chest pocket had The DeadLock’s logo on, colourless and small. The skull was repeated on his gold-dyed belt buckle, wings spreading out loud behind the skull. 

“You just look like trouble, and what’s up with your handkerchief-scarf. Does it have a purpose or is it just for show?”  
“This old thing? Cool ain’t it? Look at this.”

The American adjusted the red fabric around his neck so it covered his lower face and nose, pulling on his killer look. Eyes squinting when his hand shot out to grab at his empty gun holster, the lowered, wide stance topped it all off to make him look like a bandit in a movie set in Texas.

“It´s timeeee for trouble.” He chimed in the thickest, most stereotypical western, accent The Commander had heard yet. Vowels so low the frequency rumbled even in his throat. Reyes lost his shit when The Brat started finger-gunning him and making muffled sound-effects behind his triangle scarf with wiggly pattern. Tears was forming in the creek of The Latino’s eyes as he felt the gravity of the room decrease around his feet. His cheeks would boil when this twig of a “cool kid” dropped his dignity to make his boss laugh. The gitty bouncing and smile on The Kid’s eyes announced that he had achieved his goal. The shelf Gabriel leant on suddenly wasn’t enough to hide his face behind, so he settled for something better. 

Reyes flipped the triangle scarf with wiggly pattern upside down on Jesse’s face. This way his actual smile was exposed and eyes was covered. He wasn’t allowed to see Gabriel lose his strict superior act. 

"Fucking weeb." The Army Man shook his head. "You watched too many movies, huh?"  
“And what if I did?” McCree pouted, his box of equipment propped onto his hip while he was still blind to the world.  
“Then I won’t take you to the one in town.”  
“Ha! Jokes on you: I’ve never been to the movies so I don’t know what I’m missing."

Gabriel hummed while he fetched the last item he needed, a towel with a straight pattern on the edge before flipping McCree’s scarf the right way.  
“So, what? Did you steal a holo-displayer to watch movies?”  
“Nope. Fre—A partner of mine had an old projector stashed away in this huge warehouse-place. That thing was nearly a hundred years old! You just have to feed the projector through some HDMI-cables, then wire it through some USB-cables before hooking it up to a computer and you’re good to go!”

“You know a lot of computer stuff, don’t you? They teach you that?” It didn’t please Reyes when The Boy shrugged and blinked at the ground. Their stroll down the hall didn’t feel so pleasant with The Boy two steps behind. This was probably Gabriel prying, it had happened during dinner-time earlier too. The Boy would bury himself in an occurring topic, almost losing himself when Gabe had pulled him back to reality with a stupid question. 

“Sorry I asked, Kid--”  
“—nah, I ain’t got no knowledge about computers.” Jesse interrupted, as if he was flinching. Sorry that Gabriel had to apologise.  
“Ain’t got much knowledge about anythin’. So like I said this morning, I aint much use for you than shooting.”  
“Then what do you know.”  
“I like people, know my way around them but I ain’t good with words.”  
“Who told you that?”  
“Wh- no one. Me, I guess.”  
“Well, I think you’re good with words. You made me laugh, didn’t you? Not a lot of people who can do that.”  
“Yeah? First time a stranger made you laugh?”  
“As strange as you? Sure.”

McCree chuckled, having a blast carrying his box when they entered a corridor with much lower ceiling than the main hall. Doors with familiar and unfamiliar names, in alphabetic order, was passed until they got further down the corridor. 

“Ey, ‘Morrison’. Is that The Blond Guy’s room?”  
“Yeah, and here is mine. If you ever need him Reinhardt is the double door all the way at the end.” The Latino tapped away at the keypad of his door and it gracefully slid open with a soft *whoosh*. Traces of a certain shampoo and cigarette tickled their noses when the air came pouring out to replace the corridor air. 

The Commander’s room is rather comfortable. Big enough to fit a small desk, a queen-size and a few shelves decorating the walls. There are two other doors in the room. One manual, resembling a closet, whilst the other automatic. The automatic one had a heart pictogram foliated on, being the only thing with character in the room. Every book was neatly placed, clothes nowhere to be seen and bed perfectly made. This room could officially be stamped “Ready to go”. 

"Take off your clothes.” Gabriel yawned as he opened the window, letting the air circulate in the room.  
“What now?”  
“Your clothes: take them off. Shower is that way and your uniform is in the box. I really don’t care about the room, but it would be a pain for both of us to sleep in days worth of sweat and mud. Now go.”

Squinting in The Latino’s direction, McCree made his way over to the heart pictogram foliated door and stopped. The N.Mexican observed the piece of metal, touching the surface in anticipation. Pushing and pulling didn’t help until he noticed the touchpad on the wall. By the time Gabriel had lit the cigarillo in his mouth, and inhaled his first drag, McCree had figured out how to lock the door from the inside. 

A good head on his shoulder, huh?

The wind hummed calmly after the doors shut, filling the silence with branches creaking in the distance. Anyone would be able to zone out the faint gunfire from the shooting range outside and the chatter from an open window somewhere upstairs after a while.

The running water muttered through the wall was too calming. Each drag made the wheels in his head furious. They wanted to screech and tear and howl in his face. He could feel the smoke chain them down, camouflage the faces in the corner of his eyes. What if he made a mistake? What if he shouldn’t have let Jesse into Overwatch? What if this funny-man ends up doing something funny? He doesn’t know which terrifies him more: the fact that Jesse is here or that he could have been everywhere else. 

The view behind Gabriel never changed, 20 years of looking at it proved him right. Hopefully it would prove him wrong one day.

"It’s done. Let’s hope it was the right thing." Jack had sighed upon pressing ENTER, sending off everything to Overwatch Swiss HQ earlier that day. Letters of recommendation from three of the high commanders which was sent along really did the trick, being how they received answers back in no time. It would have taken months otherwise. 

"A penny for your thoughts, new guardian?" Jack had teased at the man sprawled over the couch against the window.  
"Just for a year.”  
"A year is a lot you know. Even though he's under your name you don’t have to do it alone. Amari and I am here to help.”

Gabriel stretched out on his bed, trying to shake the thoughts off with the coolness of his fresh duvet cover. He didn’t like the thought of jack, lurking in his head, so close to bedtime. It never left pleasant mornings to wake up to. 

“You know where I sleep and for goodness sake, do bother me at my office whenever. This desk stuff gets old fast.” Jack groaned, shutting down his screens.  
“Then why do you love doing it so much?”  
“Love—,Man I doddly hate it! I just forget Time exist.”  
“All the time.”

Jack shook his head and chuckled exactly like he did back Then. Too real and too lovable. Nothing had changed after Morrison Ranked up, he was still the same down-to earth farm-boy. The one who thought Gabriel to build shelter out of sticks and stones and hunt with nothing but a piece of string and the woods.

"As if I don't know that. There is no way I could stop you guys from butting in anyway. Amari complains about her paperwork and boredom too. I'm not gonna get in her way if she decides: bothering The Kid with you entertains her."  
“I will bother the hell out of him, you won’t even notice he’s there.”  
“Good.”  
“Excellent.” Jack huffed smugly.  
Reyes smiled and removed his beanie from his eyes to lock eyes with The Blond.  
"I’ll repeat what I suggested this morning: you should join us on some food trip soon. You haven’t been to the south town, have you?"  
“The old one? Sure.”  
“Really now?  
“It’s a date!”  
“A what?”  
“Don’t tell me you’re too chicken to go shopping with Ana and me. Bro, I’ve saved up so much. I can’t wait to finally walk into a store instead of ordering everything online.“ 

Still the same, yeah. Reyes was so tired with himself and how disgusting his crush for such a stupid man remained, refusing to die after years.

“Dude, I don’t do dates—“  
“What’s that? Is that cackling I hear?”  
“I’m not a chic—“  
“BOAK BOAK!”  
“FINE, mother-fucker! Yes, I will go shopping with Ana and you! So, shut the fuck up!” Gabe huffed and sat up from his seat, threatening to slap Morrison with the closest object he could find. 

“That’s the spirit! Haha.”  
“But I was thinking about something like food. We can’t just do nothing until weekends.”  
”Right, food… How about we all meet up for lunch in two days? After training sounds good? I heard they serve Mexican then."  
“Mmm, Mexican. They never make it correctly.”  
“Shut up, you food nerd.” Morrison chuckled and threw a pen at his partner, whom impressively pulled off an offended expression as he threw the pen right back.  
“Can you not?” 

"Pff. But yeah, I trust you with this. And remember: He is everything but a kid, as Ana puts it. But I say: sometimes he need to be treated like one, if you know what I mean.”  
“Understood. We'll just see how it goes. I got this. They should let you back on the field so you can stop being a pep-talker.”  
“They sure as hell should, but it is seemed that this is where I am needed. I can’t leave, Gabe. Unless they tell me to.”  
“I know. I just… honestly miss fighting by your sorry ass, and saving it every two second wasn’t too bad either. You were, and still are, one of our best."  
"Me???" The Blond gasped and placed an overdramatic hand on his chest.  
"Who needs to be saved every two seconds? How can this be, I’m merely a damsel in distress."  
“Do I need to flex for you to stop.” 

He had remembered how smoothly Jack laughed and slid down his chair when Jesse was two feet away, smirking. A quick glance over at the bedside alarm clock told Gabriel that he had been gone for a while, and that McCree enjoyed his legendary long shower. 

The Boy was clean and nice like the combat uniform he was wearing. Dark blue combat trousers accompanied by a black, skin tight undershirt. Ths shirt really left nothing to the imagination, really outlining how small the boy had gotten perfectly. His triangle scarf with wiggly pattern looked unmoved though, still wrapped around his neck as if he showered with it on. The fabric was as dry as Gabriel remembered it though.

"Now you look decent alright.  Far better, I can actually see the shade of your skin." He joked. 

"Mind if I get one of those to celebrate that I actually have skin and not just a pile of sand all the way through? " The Boy joked in return, placing the box of his old belongings on the desk, not expecting a propped answer from the Commander.

Gabriel looked between the burning cigarette in his hand and Jesse and sighed. He dug out the pack from his pocket and threw it in The New Mexican’s direction. 

"Don't get comfortable, consider it your last pack. I don’t want you coughing up a storm out in the field."  
“Holy shit.” McCree smirked and nodded at the man. His smirk grew bigger to what Gabriel could only identify as Jesse’s signature smile by now. He could feel The Kid’s respect for him grow with every fading flicker of their cigs.

"Thank you kindly." The ex-criminal hummed with his head peeking out the window, leaning over the frame to enjoy the last bit of sunshine that was left of the day. Gabriel would never get used to putting Kids in uniforms, he though as McCree kicked his feet back and forth behind him. Perfect fit.

Sending children to war again. America the brave really is something.


	12. Mayflower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCree goes missing and the tag on his leg doesn't help much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, school started which means slower chapters. 
> 
> Two references in this one,  
> One from a children's book and one from a song.  
> Spot em.

He doesn’t recall falling asleep. He and McCree had ended up smoking until the fireflies lit up the night sky and the sun was nothing but a memory. The white waves, which streamed from their lips, became mist when the temperature had drastically fallen. The smoke vanished at the same pace as silence became a myth. Who knows how long they mingled awaken chatting.

McCree had never seen a seventh-generation smartphone before, only limited himself to disposable second generations like iPhones and Windows two-point-ohs. The Private informed that old flip phones were the best due to their difficulty to track and lack of registration. They were the rarest kind of item, only available in Japan as far as he knew. This forced The Commander to show The Boy everything he had missed. They ended up with holo-gramming cat-videos and movies on the ceiling, their backs comfortably pressed against the duvet.

Rest was a sweet temptation they both yearned for. McCree didn’t like sleeping, especially if he didn't know what would happen the following day.

Why, Gabriel had asked.

Sleeping was like saying goodbye, the boy explained, his hands dancing along to elaborate. He didn’t like good-nights or see-you-laters because the moment he shut his eyes it could be final; for him or whoever told him to hit the hay.

Good night didn't mean goodbye, he had clarified as The Latino promised McCree that they would cheat; pre-maturely start his training sessions with sparing and guns. It thrilled The Western as he turned up some quiet background music for them to easily fall asleep to. Because how much fun it was to chat with Jesse, he needed The Brat to get some shut eye. The Guy really knew how to evoke conversation.

“Does it still hurt?” McCree muttered with holo-grammed sheep hopping among tiny stars around them. It was a special app Ana had recommended to calm him down when night terrors were attacking. If it worked for a tiny baby as Fareeha, then it would work for the biggest baby on The Watchpoint.

“Your face, that is.”  
"It’s the pure Thai-massage. What do you think? I'm just lucky I had Amari back there and that Angela knows her way around magic." Gabriel scoffed and rolled over on his side like The North Mexican; their backs barely touching.

"It will heal, Cabron. Had worse. What’s that thing people say? Sticks and stones will break my bones?"

“…Pero las palabras nunca me harán daño.”

The silence wrapped itself around them again for the music to fill. Who would have known that the pitched notes of a music box were so soothing?

“Yeah, that’s how that goes…”  
“Mh.”  
“Homesick, kid? You haven't broken out the Spanish card before.”  
“Sounds better in Spanish.”  
“Sure.”

Silence was never a bad thing. Silence is good. It’s a comfortable space to rest your head in until you have something of importance to tell the other person. Jesse clearly knew that, as he spent the breaks in between whispers to doze off. 

“Thank you, Mr.Reyes.” McCree muttered his boss’ name for the first time just as The Soldier dipped unconscious. The soaring rush you get during the peak of a roller coaster swam through Gabriel’s body and pooled in his stomach. Gentle whiskers tickling his insides, keeping him from recognizing the sentence. The first part sounded like a prayer, amplified in the roof the church. He had long forgotten that his name could be pronounced so softly, and correct?

It reminded him of the boys who live down his street, shouting for him to come out and catch Pokémon’s along the river bank.

"Don't thank me. Just prove you mean it.” Gabriel whispered when The Kids light snoring automatically faded the music on the App OFF.

\--------

You would never believe how strongly pine smelled seeping through a gaping window. Of course, it was the baking sun heating up and spreading the aroma, but it should be illegal for it to be strong enough to tickle a man’s nose to the point where he erupts awake, sneezing. The alarm went off screeching, as usual, just moments later.

The room breezy, as usual, when Gabriel sat up to groan and stretch while turning the noise off. His room was empty with everything as he had left it the day before, his shoes propped up on his desk, as usual.

Gabriel rarely had dreams, however, the one he just had felt so pleasant he just had to take a moment to recall what it exactly was about.

He managed to catch his heart in his throat after scanning the room behind him. Everything shouldn’t be as usual, there should be a box on the desk and a five-foot-something kid somewhere. There should at least be traces of his existence in this room, damn it. Alas, there were none found when Gabriel hastily shuffled his way to check the bathroom and closet. Hell, he even searched under the desk as he remembered The Private had asked to sleep there at some point.

Clumsily he reached for his Communication radio and tumbled into his shoes. His ice like hands clutching itself as he waited for the first person on his mind to reply.

“Ahlan? (Hello?)” The Comm greeted, not tired or annoyed despite it being the peak of dawn. It was just the right tone to make you sigh and smile at the lovely lady.  
“Mama bear speaking.”  
"Have you seen The Kid?"  
“Not since I interrogated him, no. But I would like to, seeing as what I heard from Jack is true and y—“ Ana was about to continue the small talking but interrupted herself, the clinking of what could only be a cup and plate hummed in the background.  
“What did you do?” Annoyance buttering up her sigh.  
“I didn’t do anything.”  
“He´s not where he should be, so either he ran away or you did something.”  
"He seemed fine! He was here, I wake up and the little shit is gone." Reyes groaned towards the dining area.

There were soldiers already up and going in the dining hall. Some Chiefs and Colonels, some new recruits, familiar faces, and then there was Pharah. Sticking out like the moon on the sky. She was dressed ready in her tiny combat uniform, for martial arts, but stood in line to collect food on her tray.

“Well he has a tag, so if he’s “gone” you know who to speak with to get his position.”  
“You fucking tagged him?” Gabriel whined, rubbing the back of his neck. The electric volt he remembered pulsating from those silicon devils already had The Commander in cold sweat.  
“Your fucking language. And yes, it is policy. Reinhardt reported that he didn’t mind.”  
"But if he’s still in the base, that tag is useless."

Reyes scouted the area for anything Jesse like. Anything red and brown in need of a beating all around. Pharah was the only one remotely close in shape and size.

“I’ll keep looking. Thanks anyway. Reyes out.”

Gabriel approached The Young Teen to tap her on the shoulder. Her ponytail was merely inches away from whipping Gabriel in the face if it wasn't for its length.

“Hey, kid. I'm looking for someone: about yay high, Scrawny, brown hair, red scarf. Angela's age. Ring any bells?"  
“Dave our front desk secretary?” Pharah questioned, shifting her tray with too much food for one person.

“Because that’s an almost perfect description of him, he is like 25 though. Have you ever been to our front desk? It’s like, on the other side of the building.”

Gabriel grimaced and bit his lip. "No, he's new. Nevermind. Thanks anyway."

Comm-ing Reinhardt with the same question as he searched was no good either. The Crusader boomed in response - a single cheerful "nope!" had Gabriel flinching at the volume. The giant didn't even question why he needed to know.  
“Nevermind, thanks anyway.”

Gabriel didn’t want to give in, he didn’t want to believe The Brat had left the building and went searching high and low while gritting his teeth. After swearing as loud as he could at his last stop he had to throw in the towel. His fist could only be clenched so much before he let go and reached for his Comm. The Commander called up Jack and slowly headed back the only place he could go.

“My sweet child, please put that down. It’s older than everyone you know. Morrison speaking? (What voice channel is this anyway… )” Jack muttered to himself at the end.  
"McCree is gone." The Commander informed, frowning at Pharah laughing in the background. "You wouldn't happen to have seen hi—“

The loud and sudden squirt of liquid on Jack’s end made Gabriel physically jump. He had choked on the coffee The Latino remembering Pharah having on her tray and was sent into a coughing fit. The Girl laughed louder this time before yelping a ‘oh no’ to so pat the human version of a golden retriever on the back.

“What?” Jack managed to squeeze out before adjusting his throat. “What did you do??”  
"I didn't do shit! He seemed happy! We watched cat videos, for Christ sake. Both Angela and Pharah love that." Reyes barked and threw his hands up in the air, feeling stingers crawling up his neck. His chest felt heavy and the faces in the corner of his eye were smiling. He thought it was enough.  
“Calm down, it’s ok, its ok. I got you.” Jack began soothing and tapping away on his keyboard. It didn’t do much as Gabriel huffed through gritted teeth.  
"I am calm."  
“Sure, buddy. If he seemed happy he has no reason to leave, meaning he’s still in base.”  
“He has a tag…”  
“I’m on it.”

“Who are you looking for?” The small Amari’s hummed, her voice lower than Jack’s but he could hear the child just as well.  
“We’re looking for Jesse, let me find a picture.”

Gabe had reached The Commander’s office, entering and drew in the brewed coffee smell filling the room. Pharah had brought Jack breakfast and made sure he hadn’t pulled another all-nighter, doubtlessly orders from her mom.

She stood next to Jack behind the desk, looking at the screen when The Commander entered.

He pushed the door open and approached the desk in a hurry to take the free spot next to Morrison. He couldn’t help but groan and place his hands on the edge of the wooden desk to tap his fingers nervously. "Tell me you can find something."  
“I don’t even know where to look! Stop that, your anxiety is rubbing off on me.”

“I want to help! I’m good at searching.” Pharah jumped in. “Is it same guy you mention earlier, Gabi? I can ask around and check in on the security gu-” Her bright face stopped dead in its track as Jack pulled up McCree’s headshot on his holo-computer. Her nose and brows wrinkled up and her lip quivered as if her stomach was about to turn.

“Motherfucker.” The Child muttered and was harshly scolded by Jack. Mini Amari did apologize though, defending herself by explaining that “A curse” was the only appropriate word to describe The Private.

“He’s in the med bay for treatment. Angela and I were going to do Morning Training together but then he arrived and “Needed assistance.” She quoted with fingers drawing her quotation marks. “Also, his accent is stupid.“  
"You're right, it is stupid." Gabriel added as he nyoomed out of the office powered by sheer anger alone.

The Commander broke into the med bay, with McCree firmly planted on the examination table with all kind of strange devices hooked up to him. The Medic hovered around him, about to inject a syringe with a familiar yellow liquid into his arm but froze mid action.

With his shirt off, The Latino could see all the injuries he had read in Angela’s reports.

Both of them had all rights to stare at Reyes, like a cryptic going grocery shopping, and he had all the right to be angry. He seemed angry with arms crossed and his foot tapping faster than the beeping medical equipment who replaced the silence. The Commander never approaching out of respect for Angela's work space.

"Mind telling me where you took off to, kid?" Gabriel barked from the doorway, making The Medic jolt out of surprise. A death glare and past experience told The Commander that he was being too loud for her to work.

“I tripped?” he lied in an acceptable volume which made Ziegler happily returning to work.

"Bullshit. Where." He bristled, still too loud, his shoes squeaking against the tiled floor. It forced Angela to devour the air as she inhaled, dropping the syringe with a familiar yellow liquid. Her destructive glare leads her straight as she marched towards and grabbed Gabriel by the shirt. In one swift motion, and with impressive footwork, she managed to violently seat her Commander down on a chair by the wall.

Gabriel was too startled to put up a fight, often forgetting that Angela was also a soldier. She earned the title as a “Mercy Medic” at age sixteen for a reason.

"Quiet." She hissed with a finger firmly mashed against The Latino’s lips. She was the only thing standing in Gabriel’s way of kicking McCree’s ass. It was at most tempting to take action when The Motherfucker taunted, his tongue flailing about, giving a whole new meaning to “fuck faced grimace”.

“I left a note in the most obvious place possible, ain't checked your shoes putting them on this morning?” He whispered as Mercy returned to her work.

Puzzled, Gabriel scratched his head before removing his shoe. On the first try, he managed to find a yellow stickie note from his desk stuck against the bottom of the sole. The paper still warm from the heat of his foot.

“Howdy. Breakfast, medic. Find me with the angel. C U later.  
-J.M”

"Why the fuck is it in my shoe? I don't fucking check my shoes. You should have just nudged me awake, for fucks sake." The Commander frowned softly, the lack of reaction telling him his volume was appropriate.

“You needed sleep.”  
“I didn’t. I needed to do my job, which is-”  
“What? Your job is what? Escort me to breakfast? Comb my hair? Quit that shit, man. I can do that myself. What i do need is your ass rested before we start the horse show. I ain’t fighting you with drowsiness in your body.” he whispered aggressively, ignoring the fact that the substance Angela pumped into him had made his scars glow.

“...oh.” The thought of fighting or training at all had completely slipped his mind. It made The Commander slipp his beanie a little close and cross his arms a little tighter, embarrassed.  
“Apologize for… the panic.”  
“Were you worried?”  
“No.”  
“Already going soft on me, boss? Finally going gusy-mushy? I knew you had a chicken-mom trait in there somewhere you, squishy ball.”

"Maybe I wasn't all that worried about you, however the safety of my people." Gabriel frowned sincerely when Angela threw her neck in reverse, her brows furrows so strongly together the Commander feared they could snap his spine in half. The Medic didn’t like when Gabriel got defensive and he didn’t like when people caught onto his affection. 

“Heh, I hear ya, gotta protect your family.” The Boy huffed, bleeding into a soft chuckle when his Commander flipped him off. He was quick to return the favor two fold. 

Tobaccos always tasted the best during times like these. When you try to be passive but everything ends up aggressive. He can't help forget that people are people and pride doesn't mean Jack-shit when you're in the middle of the hurricane. It's hard to give in, it's hard to not empty your sadness as if you were dumping your purse on the bedroom floor. 

It shocks gabriel how alike he and McCree are, yet so different. Gabriel - the shape of a plastic marble - oil preserved for millions of years, while The Boy - molten glass from the sand you dragged into the house. It’s difficult to believe The Fool refuses to look into the mirror while the Mayflower sees it as its own. 

Jesse discovered his Boss on one of the open balconies close to the med bay. His checkup had gone smoothly with no looming pain left to hiss at. The Commander had left shortly after Jesse’s scares had stopped glowing. 

His threading was gentle and slow, only walking faster when someone else was walking by to disguise his footsteps with theirs. He had done it frequently before and could never help it. An unturned back was a target begging to be spooked. 

The Smoker was muttering into his radio, smiling at Ana as they talked even though she couldn't see it. Standing inches away and even swatting the air towards Gabriel didn’t raise any suspicion, The Guy was completely oblivious! 

With both index fingers prepared he jabbed them into Gabriel’s sides - shouting “BANG!” at the top of his lunges. The sound frequency had too short of a travel distance resulting in every output McCree had to give was directly flung against the Commander’s eardrums.

They both ended back up in Angela’s med bay moments later.


	13. 4 say

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The three americans eat lunch together for the first time.
> 
> (Mention of NSFW. NSFW DIALOG.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to let you know that not a day passes where i dont think about this fic. Im writing a paragraph a day but even then its not enough. 
> 
> Even though im very busy, dont think for a second that the fic will die. Ever. 
> 
> Alright see ya!  
> Iloveyoumuchthnxforreading

Jesse was introduced to the rules and norms; a lot of them. All the places he needed to be at a certain time or where to get what he needed, whenever he needed it.

This wasn't a god damn hotel or school ground, you don't ask for “please and thank-you"s, you ask for permission and gain respect to even be allowed to take a shit during training hours. You don't get anything served, you work for it and set everyone else above yourself, Gabriel preached.

On The Watchpoint; everyone has their place.

McCree had figured that much out. He even discovered plenty of secret places perfect for relaxing or receiving some extra service, with help from his favorite German, of course. Including where his things could be washed and stored. Merely a tiny box you could place your civilian belongings in before being stationed. 

For some it was a locker - for others, a time capsule. Quite a few boxes seemed like they had never been touched, the color of the metal faded with time. Reinhardt's box was closest to the ceiling and had collected quit the layer of dust.

The Young Boy was given a schedule and a Basic Military Training handbook, on top of it all. Something everyone in his platoon had already received and studied through. Jesse didn’t look very excited over the fact that his team would arrive on the watchpoint in merely a week - neither did he like the amount of text on each page of his handbook. No way he would get along with someone who recently forced the entire handbook into their nogging. 

Read it and weep - it will save your life, Gabriel sneered. He reminded The Young Soldier how lucky he was that the superiors didn't demand a written test.

The unlucky part was around lunchtime: Ana was unable to join them for their feast and Reinhardt had an upcoming mission and regretfully had to pass up on the offer. It forced the boys to, at least, drag their Base Commander out for a bite so he wouldn't forget to consume again. 

"You should join McCree in some training, Jack." Gabriel threw in between casual talk and complaints about the watchpoint. "You're probably a better match for him than I am. Besides, your overworked ass could use some moving. If it wasn't halfway impossible, I would think you were gaining weight."

“I’m offended. Are you calling me fat, dude?”  
“Are you not?”  
“Why don't you come over here and find out yourself?” Jack smirked and dropped his fork. He hooked an arm around something invisible in the crook of his elbow and made rubbing motions with his free fist over it. The flashbacks of choking during Judo training came crashing over The Latino; ‘nam wasn't kind to them. Gagnam, that is - the South Korean Overwatch Watchpoint. 

“Sure, I’ll tag along. Fantastic chance to see what's going on up your sleeves, Jesse.”  
“Wait, as in right now?” McCree spurted, blinking rapidly with cheeks swollen and full. His back was hunched over the tray, like a wolf protecting its newly caught prey.

“Yes, because this dining table is highly capable of taking some fighting on it.” Jack smirked until McCree attempted to check the sturdiness of the legs.

“No! Calm down, Jesse. We’ll do it later, whenever you’re ready and done digesting your food. I wouldn’t want new soldiers to be taken on surprise in their own home.” The Boy squints at the blond commander when he motioned to get his head out from under the table.

“How is The Base Commander a better go for me than mister big ol’ “Destroy-Everything-In-my-Way” guy over here.” 

"Thank you.” Gabriel smirked upon being pointed at. He dragged a food covered fork across his tongue before being engulfed to the back of his mouth. His brows would wiggle at his partner from their inviting state, lusting after The Blond’s face. 

As expected, Morrison read the Commander’s slow and sensual moves as a tease. Morrison took offense by pouting and rudely stealing a piece of meat from his partner, scoffing when Gabriel wasn't quick enough to deflect the utensil. 

“Jack is smaller - even if just a bit, however, he spent the last three months on his ass without a single spar so he's probably behind. "

“I can still take you down in mid to long-range combat, thank you very much.”

“But in close combat?”

“...Aaah...” Jack hummed, his vision cleansed as if the world was finally clear - wiped with the wettest cloth on the watchpoint. 

“Jesus, did you just figure out you were sparring with him?”  
“No- I mean yes! I thought--, like instructing and observing- due to the result from yesterday… and... You know what? Whatever Gabriel gave you in The Sparring From Yesterday, Jesse, I won’t be half as aggressive and not as big of a bully. I'll give you actual training advice.”

"Hey now, all-star.” Gabriel wouldn't call the bloody nose he gave McCree "bullying", and The Sparring From Yesterday could only be referred to as horse-play. There wasn't any bullying, nope.

“If bullying is the new “No babying and nursing” then I accept. Bastions aren't gonna go easy on new recruits out on the field."  
“Recruits won't make the cut if we keep kicking their butt aggressively around.”

Gabriel shook his head slowly, elbow on the table to rest his chin in his palm. Looking down at his lonely plate Gabriel remembered Morrison was right. There was fewer soldiers who are accepted each year, even fewer who make it past corporal or even cadet in rank. It’s not a problem at the moment, but if the numbers keep decreasing…

In Spanish Gabriel sighed and murmured quietly: "Oh I'll give you aggressively." Knowing he had lost this argument.

McCree snorted as loud as a book crashing down in a library, nearly bursting out laughing when Jack didn't give Gabriel any second thought. 

“Bro, they’re still fresh. Even if they're soldiers they're just 20-23-year-olds.  
Giving them confident for their first impression at the base is very important, you know. Torbjorn still need new recruits in his tech department instead of the—“ Jack continued, lecturing the Latino between bites to clear his plate.

“Does he ever stop.” The Western muttered low to his Commander in Spanish.

Gabriel groaned around whatever bread he found lying on his tray, drinking up Morrison’s look. The curves of his features, his hair and eyes. The dynamic of his profile and hand movements as he talked flowed smoother than the last drop of coffee. Jack's lips couldn't be compared to the calm ripples in his mug or the breathtaking pour of milk breaking the surface of the coffee.

“No.” Gabriel replied quietly in Spanish, still fixated on Morrison. “I stopped listening after “Fresh”.”

“A lot of talking from this one, but does he make any other noises? You know, if you start _pushing_ buttons instead of ghosting over them.” McCree slipped as he sipped on the glass he had covering his mouth. By clearing his throat and sighing was enough to distract Jack, convincing him that Jesse was merely thirsty and nothing was being said. 

"What?” Gabriel wheezed in Spanish, chocking around his bread. The Latino almost managed to cough his bread back up over the table.

“Partner, you think I ain’t noticing you undressing him like we're in a strip club? You got a thing for American sausage or is it just the image of a sausage in his mouth that is tempting?”

Reyes was legitimately speechless for a moment. The Kid caught on, obviously. He wasn't dumb and Gabriel wasn't hiding anything. Most of his colleagues knew there was something going on, however, had never pointed it out as directly the way Jesse had. Even publicly holding hands or sitting on each other during football matches didn't raise enough signals with some. Two guys being slice was just as normals as two gals being pals, it never occurred anyone.

"Shut it, kid." He eventually managed to bark out with a quiet, hissing-weak squeak. The mental images McCree provided him with was one step too much. It forced the Commander to close his eyes with a deep sigh.

Success. This was a golden opportunity for The Young Boy to get payback for The Sparring From Yesterday. It was clearly working The Older Spanish speaker up, so how far could The Recruit drag this?

"He said this table wasn't made for taking a beating on. But what about some banging?"  
McCree leaned over, passing Reyes, pretending to grab whatever condiment across the table, but in actuality just wanted his mouth closer to the Latino for low and growling mutters.

"I'm sure the watchpoint wouldn't mind hearing him moan your name.”

Gabriel frowned up towards the ceiling, praying to whoever it may concern. He prayed to be spared or to be tortured gently. Gabriel was one clench or eye-roll away from punching McCree in the face. There was a pulsating wave of heat in his lower stomach at the thoughts and image. HIS commander gasping with HIS name spilling across rough lips... 

Reyes shook his head and settled with smacking Jesse over the arm. "I'm pretty sure they would mind plenty. I'm not into exhibitionism." 

The Man who was drowning in his own lectures, and every war memory he had stored, started trailing off. Jack was distracted when McCree reached for the pepper and was smacked for it. Suddenly shifting blue eyes to The Boy. "You also like spicy food, Kid?"  
The Eastern purred, forcing McCree to speak louder as he switched back into English. 

"Yes, Sir. Ain't a proper meal without something _hot_ in your mouth, make your eyes all _watery._ Woowie, I sure do love spice." Jesse picked his phrasing very carefully as he pulled on his shit eating grin, glancing over at his boss.  
"Pepper isn’t very spicy, though. Would be nice with some exotic _seeds_ on the menu. If you, you know, catch my flow."

It only made Morrison nod thoughtfully, remembering every time his partner would complain about the food being too plain on the Watchpoint .  
"I do catch your flow, actually."

 

"You don't, apparently, you dense motherfucker." Gabriel murmured still in Spanish, referencing to Jack's words.  
With his plate empty and bread gone there was nothing stopping Gabriel from stealing His partner’s plate and shoving it into his mouth. It was the only thing keeping him from cursing anymore.

Morrison blinked between the two Boys when Jesse laughed at his boss, putting two and two together.

"You speak Spanish, Soldier?"

"Yes, sir. Always have been."

"Mind teaching me some? I'm a quick learner, I know some German and Arabic but never been around much to take time with our neighbor language."

The Kid almost lost it, slamming his hands down at the table and flung the ugliest and wides smile over at Reyes.  
This kid was going to ruin something, or everything, making all of the Latino's holding back a living hell. His fear to initiate was being beaten with a stick.

"I recon the master of the language, over here, would teach ya much more than I can. Maybe even give you some private lessons. You know; student and teacher kind of thing."

The gears in his head was spinning. He was calculating the bombs destination. Something stupid was about to come out this young fucker’s mouth, anyone could feel that.

Gabriel turned his eyes to Jesse glaring daggers and mouthing a silent: "No." Followed by hissed "I am going to slaughter you” in his mother tongue.

Jack sat with the though, a finger on his chin while blinking at the ceiling. At the same time, McCree placed some space between himself and his Boss, shielding his shoulder and important body parts with his hands.

"But i can teach you one phrase, Sir.  
How does 'Fuck off, Gabriel.' Sound?" The American suggested.

Jack shone with the phrase, unable to recall all the tines he had abused the words in the past.

The blond agreed and all McCree said in Spanish was:

"Please fuck me, Gabriel."

The boy repeated slow, straining his face not to smile like a fabric refusing to tear when there was nothing it rather wanted.

Jack hummed the words to himself as Gabriel got up with a sharp inhale about to straight up snap out and slap The Recruit again. Instead, he exhaled and sat back down.

Hearing McCree say the words felt weird. Hearing Jack repeat them almost felt wrong. Over chugging of water, The Latino glared in Spanish at The Boy.

"You're dead to me.” 

Jack was startled by his partner and looked at McCree concerned. The Recruit’s face lit up like the Fourth of July, making it seem like he was hurting himself as he chocked on sparking laughter.

"Please fuck me, Gabriel???" Jack repeated in Spanish with the softest, most American accent one could imagine. White wasn't enough to describe the taste of the sound.

A latina girl on the table across from them snorted and immediately began apologizing for her behavior. McCree's laughter was apparently contagious. Gabriel noticed when he tried to stay mad. 

Tried. Really did. But the way Jack said pronounced the sentence. His accent. The girl snorting and losing herself with McCree hyperventilating behind his hand. He really tried. 

His attempt to stay angry died with his own snort and an outbreak of laughter. He wheezed, doubling over the table to catch his breath and hide watering eyes. The Freshes Recruits scattered around must have looked them horrified, only crazy people with PTSD would laugh their ass off at a military base. 

"Please fuck me, Jack." Reyes replied with a smoother pronunciation.


	14. Ever-Changing-times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jesse and Jack show off their sparring.  
> Street is though to beat but not with military grade abilities.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for long break hope youre still reading.  
> The next chapter is NSFW but you can skip it. It will be added as an external fic so those who doesnt want NSFW can easily pass. 
> 
> Happy Halloween!

Both Jesse and Jack were fully warmed up after 20 minutes of stretching around the range. Bandages were thrown McCree’s way to bind his knuckles with. Gabriel had experienced The Boy’s lack of punching knowledge. He wouldn’t know how to properly throw without bruising himself.

“No rules. Free for all. The fight will end in 15 minutes or when the opponent is locked, motionless, on his chest.” Jack clarified in his defensive stance.  
McCree copied the man, glancing over at Reyes on the sideline. He wanted to impress and made sure his Boss was watching. Jack knew that. The information he scratched out of his partner during stretching was more than enough. 

“Jesse is way smarter than you think he is.” Gabriel had mentioned with hands shoved into his hoodie. “He knew he couldn't overpower me and instead used my own momentum to throw me off my feet. He’ll probably try to do something similar.”

Just imagining the scene which took place during The Sparring From Yesterday had Jack all fired up. Everyone described The Boy similarly. Smart, smart, smart. It was all Morrison ever heard. He wanted it. He wanted to experience everything Jesse had to give. Such a remarkable young man who had changed his closest friend in merely days. Jack hadn’t heard his partner laugh in so long, not as hard as he did back in the dining hall. 

Even though Gabriel and Ana were merely doing the morally right decision, Jack knew there was something more. Jesse had this magnet like charm and it attracted everyone he passed by. His colleagues were just lucky enough experience his charm first hand.

This right here, This is destiny. Jesse belonged here. 

“Ready, soldier?” Jack smiled, tightening the skin draped over his knuckles.  
“Yes, Sir.”

"Don't kill each other, and leave Jack's face out of it. I need something to drool over in this shit-hole." Gabriel hollered before their sparring. The Latino had found himself a bench close to the mat where the fight was taken place. A smirk stitched into his lips pumped him up when knuckles started flying. If only he had someone next to him who was rapidly commentating, he would already be on the edge of his seat.

McCree was reckless by making the first move. The Kid didn’t know Jack’s fighting style but had made some assumptions. He would often aim for The Commander’s legs, attempting to throw him off balance. He even went as far as to slide into a forward roll and tackle The Blond. Spying on his enemy while they warmed up was a clever move by The Kid.

All his attacks would have worked if Morrison hadn’t seen them coming. Jesse’s arms were too low to make any high attacks, which only left ground-force. His eyes would also be more lowered than preferred. Kid, the eyes are up by the head, remember? McCree tunnel-visioned too much and was way too easy to predict. Gabriel made the mental note to teach The Private some god-damn patience and understanding the whole picture of the fight.

Jack leaped to the side into a shoulder roll, dodging the tackle. It was immediately followed by a grasping hand to Jack’s face the moment both of them had firmly planted their feed to the mat again. It was like watching a boxing match, the kind of MMA you see on TV. The way they exchanged punches, both very offensive with Jack more on the defensive side. The Eastern would block and deflect on a higher skill level, taking The Kid’s blows and smoothly leading them off in another direction. He was dragging out time.

Their small brawl was quick to collect a crowd. It wasn’t often people got to see both the High Commanders in the training range together. Even fewer was lucky enough to spectate Jack while he did his “Thing”. Hyper-Analyzing was a rare trait. Jack had perfected ever since his basic military days, and the results were always breathtaking. 

He observed Jesse’s - Everything. The force he delivered blows, the length of his arm compared to The Commander’s own, and which side of Jack’s face was favored to look at. The kid had in short time created a pattern and Jack could see all the data hovering around McCree’s head. All the numbers and lines and circles pointing to The Rookie’s body. As if he still had his visor connected to his brain.

“He favored his right hand” is what Jack had thought when he had successfully grabbed The Kid’s arm. He threw The Boy over his shoulder, about to dunk the kid half-aggressively down on the mat when there was a breeze tickling his back.

McCree had noticed The Commander’s shirt being a tad too big. Maybe because The Blond had lost muscle mass during his office period, or maybe he had gained weight after all. He could have used that fat to absorb the shock he received on his shoulder upon impact with the ground. By grabbing a hold of the louse fabric and jump-rolling off Morrison’s back, Jesse had managed to create enough momentum. Momentum strong enough to jank Jack off his feet as he was thrown, allowing to be dragged a few feet across the mat. The feeling of being airborne for a nanosecond made Jack’s adrenalin production to skyrocket. 

Jesse was ambidextrous.

The Soldiers landed safely next to each other, however, surprised the shit out of them both. Even a few spectator were taken by surprise and applauded their landing. The audience had completely forgotten about their own training. 

His boys tumbling to the ground had the Latino chuckling to himself. He allowed his eyes to linger on Jack's exposed skin when his shirt flew up his back. Gabriel was disappointed by the lack of a belly while Jack struggled to get back on his feet. 

"Tsk, Jack. You're gonna allow a new recruit to beat you so easily? For shame." Gabriel grinned, throwing his hands behind his head to rest on. 

“Shut up, Reyes.” Jack scolded, prying his shirt out of The Recruit’s hand. Fingers locked around the cotton, refusing to let go, almost tore the fabric apart. If he didn't let go, Jack would force The Private over on his chest while sitting. It was difficult to do anything when none of them were able to get on their feet. Their MMA like wrestling developed to rolling around the mat, scrambling to avoid being locked in position. Somewhere along the shuffling Jesse had managed to land a good kick to The Commander’s chest with both his feet, rendering him wheezing.

Jack lost most of the air in his lounges, toggling off balance as a streak of white clouded his vision. Instinct kicked in and his muscle memory flashed red noise and a big crimson ERROR message to immediately replace his blinded moment. He could hear sizzling in his right ear after falling over on his bottom. Sharp reflexes successfully landed a right hook directly to Jesse’s jaw. Hopefully, nothing broke. Jaws are suppose to crack, what are you on about?

The Commander fell over to support himself on his elbows and heave in lost air. Jack was inhaling for merely a second when he had a rear solidly planted on his hurt chest. 

Morrison had the advantage of being tall with long limbs, thank god. If Jack was anything else he would have taken several punches with his face. Jack had a grip wrapped around McCree’s jaw which kept the boy fairly far away. None of Jesse’s swings reached The Commander’s face. He had already learned to drop rapid punching and relay in slow and heavy throws. Amazing. 

It was still not enough, Jack’s free hand kept him busy to blocked and deflected the attacks which did fly dangerously close. The situation was all smiles and fun. It was entertaining to observe Jesse try his very best. However, in this position, Morrison was unable to swing. 

Simply lifting McCree by the neck and arm and throwing him off was an option, but Jack didn’t know how far he could go without really hurting The Kid. Jack knew there were no rules, something The Private really took advantage off, however, he himself couldn’t really do that.

He can’t, he won’t.  
He started to regret the No-Rule-System introduced before the sparring.

Jack had a grip wrapped around McCree’s jaw, at least he thought he did when he could hear The Private quietly huffing and breathing strangely. Unconscious strength squeezing McCree’s windpipe had The Blond deciding; enough was enough. Accidentally strangling someone wasn't exactly on The Commander’s agenda today.

“I surrender..” Jack declared, swiftly snatching the punching wick-wacks. Jack closed his eyes and gathered their hands together over his chest. 

“I surrender.” He repeated while Jesse took a well-deserved cough. Very violent coughing.

“Gush all mighty.” The Boy wheezed between inhaling and the rest of his coughing. He dramatically fell over, with hands still in Jack’s.

“You lost, boy scout?” The Latino teased when there was zero movement in both of The Soldiers. People had returned to their places, no longer interested now that the brawl was dead. 

“Blow me.” 

“I can’t believe the famous Jack Morrison took his sweet time in a 1v1 and lost.” 

“Please fuck me, Gabriel.” The Commander sighed in his poor Spanish accent, the way he had learned “Fuck off” was pronounced - earlier that day.

Jack closed his eyes slowly at the ceiling when McCree was sent into another painful coughing. Taken off guard he forcibly snatched his hands back - rolling over on his side to cackle like the morning rooster. Only they were allowed to enjoy their new inside joke. They were quick to re-continue the same howling of laughter and Gabriel soon experienced a black pit in his stomach. 

"Please stop." The LA Soldier huffed and rubbed his arm. 

“Never. I will butcher your language until I succeed. However!” Jack exclaimed, rolling over onto his side and propping a hand up to support his head as he relaxed. The only thing The commander lacked was a bear rug to lie on and a fireplace crackling over Careless Whisper. He smiled at The Rookie.

“Gabriel was right. You got a good head on your shoulders. Keep that noggin safe, won’t ya? And to all your mistakes? Nothing training cannot improve.”

“So, I did good?”

“Good?” Jack blew his limbs up big in every direction, almost tripping over Gabriel while rolling over on his back again. “You were amazing! That brawl was so fun!”

Warmth spread across McCree’s chest and up his sore neck. The heat grew faster over his cheeks while he smiled. Accepting a handshake to seal the fight marked the end of their time together. 

By the end of the day, the new dorm rooms meant for the new soldiers was still incomplete. Meaning they would still be “Roomies”. 

"Go shower. You reek from training." Gabe ordered blankly while crawling onto the bed to lie down. He made sure to leave space for Jesse as he puffed up his pillow.

“But I showered yesterday.”

“What?” Gabriel purred, lifting his head off the comfort of his pillowcase to blinked in McCree’s general direction. He was too tired for this. “You shower every day, Nino.”

“Every?” The Boy gasped, putting down the pillow they fetched for him earlier. Gabriel was tired of sharing one for so long. 

“Every. Now yeet, I need to drift.” 

“That some military code I don't understand?” Jesse scratched his head and turned a proper 180-degrees when his Commander pointed at the door with a heart-pictogram on. He stopped in the entrance and glanced back at Gabriel, his arm dangling over his eyes to hide from the blinding light.

“You know, didn’t much like Mister Morrison at first, Being high and mighty and all that. His morning robe flapping behind him everytime he enters a room. Looked like a fragile doll your granny told you not to touch. But he’s a good man, I like him”

"Me too... Good soldier, best friend. Though as a brick though."

“Why haven’t you made a move yet?” Gabe scoffed, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. The attempts he had made, the smoothest moves ever pulled. If only they could add up to something.

"Oh, I’ve made plenty of them. He’s too caught up with work and blind as blind as a shoe. You can’t even tell him straight either, he’ll just twist the meaning and interpret ten other things." The Commander shrugged and turned over onto his side. It didn't matter. He was tired.

Gabriel appreciated the sound of doors sliding and locking behind him, that The Private didn't pry further. The quiet shimmer of running water was somehow soothed enough to tease him closer and closer to the edge. This was most likely the last time Jesse would be spending sleeping over and showering here. The Latino’s nights would finally return to being dead as they ended. 

When his feet peeked over the edge, arms outstretched about to give into his subconscious, he remembered Ana. How she would huff with a hand on her hip to glance the other direction. How she would elbow him in the ribs whenever Morrison passed.

“Are you scared?” she would ask him.  
“I’m not.” He would whine to the point of it becoming their routine and inside-phrase. He wasn’t scared of Morrison and he wasn’t scared of the responses, or lack of, to his moves. He wanted to be somewhere and wanted Jack’s happiness. Obviously, Gabe couldn’t take him away from his job and all the stress. They can’t just take a vacation, it doesn't work like that. Their twist of a vacation is 60% fewer soldiers in the ER, 40% more soldiers ranking up and 100% less dying.

“Are you scared?”  
Of dying? Not anymore. With experience, Gabriel discovered being afraid only spawn more fear. Something he couldn’t quite afford for him or his Battalion, not anymore. He can’t help being worried, though. Worry about how little Overwatch really knew about the Uprising Movement and the people lurking the corners. He can’t help but worry about his brain disappearing every so often, replaced with smiling faces - creeping in the corner of his eyes. 

Signs of stress and exhaustion, there are pills for that. Perfects soldiers don't defect. They don’t lose.

“Are you scared?”  
Of losing? No. If he had nothing, there was nothing to lose. Gabe was at the peak of his career, only he could do his job perfectly. If he lost his friends, he would start mourning. But even they knew he had to move on. He would have wanted the same in return. 

Ana would always cup his face so gently and tilt her head as she looked him in the eyes. She would blink and stare for a moment and wait for Gabriel to say something. She knew he was afraid to lose someone he didn’t have. Therefore, if he never had anyone, he wouldn’t be hurt and nothing would change. Because in these ever-changing-times; What do we have but a moment. 

She would never speak after asking him of his fear. She would merely rub his head and pull him into a hug, waiting for him to cry. He loved their shared sigh after wrapping his arms around her. It was their moment.

Because in these ever-changing-times; What do we have but a moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments would be amazing! Questions, likes and dislikes.  
> a simple "iz gud" can motivate me to write so much more.
> 
> This is originally an RP with my boi Dave.  
> Thanks to Dave, himself, and HDpanda for being occasional beta readers. 
> 
> I am not a native english speaker, so correct whatever you see.  
> Thank you.
> 
> (i added wrong Dave as co-author. Fuck im sorry)


End file.
